


Scrapbook

by Oras



Category: DCU, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Clubbing, Fainting, Fluff, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Interns & Internships, It sucks though, Lazy Mornings, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, My First Smut, Panic Attacks, Science Bros, annoying neighbours
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2018-09-07 00:12:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 20,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8775466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oras/pseuds/Oras
Summary: Basically, this is a place in which I post the stories I've written in order to become better at writing. And hopefully to get some feedback.The stories are mostly One-Shots, in no particular order and written about random pairs.





	1. Crumpled Newspapers (Bluepulse)

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1. Crumpled Newspapers  
> In which Bart and Jaime are stuck at Gotham Airport during a snowstorm. Bart hates every second of it since he simply dreads Gotham and he itches to go home. Jaime however, sees this as an opportunity to get even closer with his loverr.

Bart walked over to the ginormous windows and reflected on the grey sky. He had always hated Gotham, reminded him too much of the future. In which skies were always grey and the people were in constant danger. That’s why he loved Central City so much. Because there people could smile and feel safe. Where, often, the sun shined. A thing he’s come to miss for the past few days.

“They cancelled all flights again,” a voice behind him called. Bart turned around and dejectedly accepted one of the festive, red cups Jaime was holding. “I think we’ll be stuck here again for a few days. Till it passes,” Jaime hums.

“Gee, I hadn’t thought of that. Thanks Captain Obvious,” Bart sassed.

“Ouch-- Rude.” He gave Bart a light shove, careful enough so Bart’s cup wouldn’t spill. “I can get why you’re annoyed, but please don’t abreact it at me ese.”

“Ugh, I know… Listen, I’m sorry, okay? It’s just that—Argh! I’m sick of waiting and being stuck here all the damn time!” Jaime could understand why Bart was getting all fussy by staying cooped here. They were supposed to leave today after being here for almost an entire _week_. The speedster had been pacing around the entire airport trying not to blow his cover. Trying not to run. Which Jaime admired, of course, but he didn’t quite understand why he’d go through this all when he could just be home within a few minutes.

“Cariño.. If it’s really bothering you so much we could always get out of here in no time,” Jaime offered. But Bart shook off the idea.

“No blue. We planned this trip to _escape_ the usual hero gig. So, we should end it the same way. Like normal people do.”

Bart’s statement felt final, but Jaime still tried to shake some sense in the young speedster. “We’re not quite normal, Bart. Haven’t you ever heard of a cheat day?” Bart ignored the last comment and sat in his usual seat for the past few days. After almost a week being stuck here, they were lucky that the airport had a built-in hotel. It’s probably the only reason Bart lasted this long without running off. Jaime was used to this kind of thing, he used to travel a lot with his family before he got Khaji Da, but for Bart this must have been a horrible trip back.

“How’s the cocoa?” Jaime asked to change the subject. He sat next to Bart in one of the grey, worn seats and looked around him. The airport was humongous and equipped with the latest tech. A little gift from Mister Wayne himself. Probably since he had to use the airport often, but what did Jaime know. It was probably the cleanest place he had ever seen in Gotham, besides maybe Diamond District. Where, of course, the Wayne family lived. So, it didn’t quite come as a surprise.

He glanced at his reflection in the windows and noticed that the storm was still blazing. And Bart seemed to ignore him.

_Lovely._

He rolled his eyes. “Anything new in the newspapers?” He asked mockingly.

“No. I’ve been reading the same one for the past wee—oh. You didn’t mean it,” he hypothesized. “I’m going for a walk.”

Jaime looked as Bart promptly stood up and left. He’d be back in thirty… forty minutes perhaps. It left him pondering about Bart and how he had left. Leaving a sick feeling in Jaime’s stomach, like the two were fighting or something. Which was insane, since the two rarely fought. The last time they had a huge fight was during a mission, because Bart took a hit to protect Jaime. That had pissed him off royally. They fought for _days_. But that was months ago, and everything had been fine since then.

Jaime thought of Bart’s blank face, it really had been a while since he saw Bart like that. But he didn’t quite know what to do to fix it. It’s not like he could stop making it snow. And Bart refused to use his powers. Which left little options left—none actually. Since no one was stupid enough to drive during a storm or even to go outside for that matter.

Jaime sighed and collected the, by now crumpled, newspaper Bart had been fumbling with for the past few days. It was the exact same mumbo jumbo Jaime had been reading. But then again, Jaime had read about every brochure there was inside this damn airport. He had now more useless information chiselled in his head than he had in high school. And that said something. He looked at the puzzle section and could see that Bart had already filled it in. Seven times.

_Talk about overkill._

The headline was an alert warning for snow storms that would haunt them for over a week. Ain’t that ironic? This was published just before the storm had hit them. The next pages were filled with either celebrity gossip or villainous acts committed by Gotham’s infamous (and unlimited) bad guys. And of course, with the heroes who stopped them. And by the judge of it, it seemed that Red Robin had been in town. Was he still here? He would probably not be in his penthouse, right now. Much rather at Nightwing’s place. Knowing Tim’s older brother, he wouldn’t want him to be alone during a snowstorm. Or at all.

Then again, knowing Tim, he could be everywhere and you’d never notice in the first place. For all Jaime knew he could be at the other side of the world.

Kind of where Jaime wanted to be right now, but not because of the reasons one might assume. It’s because of the destination _ahead_ of them. Bart and he had been moving from Jaime’s place in El Paso to Bart’s place in Central City in a continuous, dreadful cycle. Both still lived with their families and at this point it was becoming simply pathetic. It’s not like they didn’t have the money either, they were secured financial wise. It was simply because they couldn’t agree on a place to live. Even though Bart was the fastest man alive (In Jaime’s opinion. Flash could bite him) and could easily run home in a matter of _seconds_ , he didn’t like living far away from his family. He always had that eerie feeling that something bad was going to happen if he wasn’t nearby.

And Jaime would miss his parents’ place in El Paso. His friends, his work, the people, everything really. They were headed to Central City for now, much to Jaime’s dismay.

He slumped into his seat and let out a heavy sigh. He stared at the ceiling, trying to think of a solution for when Bart returns all grumpy. And for how to survive the Allen’s. It’s not like Jaime didn’t like them, he just needed his own place after a while with anyone’s family. Really.

A page of the newspaper glided over to the floor and Jaime rolled his eyes. With a grunt, he stretched out for it and grabbed a hold of it. Surprised, he looked at the pages. He had read this thing to the end and back, but Jaime had never seen this page. Houses, apartments and flats were viewed on the newspaper with an estimated price circled around them. And then the realisation hit Jaime; Bart had done this. He was eyeing places to live together. Up to this point, Jaime thought that Bart hadn’t spent any time on finding a place of their own. For some reason, it made him feel a bit sick. He hadn’t trusted Bart at all… Maybe that was why Bart was just done with today.

In that moment Jaime had made a decision. One he knew was the right one. He grabbed his phone, unlocked his broken screen and started tapping vigorously on it. He sent a few texts and quickly started calling someone. He hadn’t noticed how much time was gone with texting and calling until Bart was in his sights again. He immediately hung up and waited for Bart, who looked like he was dying to say something.

His hair was tussled up and his clothes looked messy. Like he had been running around.

“Hey,” Bart panted. He doubled over and put his hands on his knees, taking a few deep breaths.

“Did you come back from war? What happened?”

“Had a running contest with the kids at terminal F,” Bart smiled. His cheeks were tinted red, and he wiped his hand over his forehead, collecting the sweat that was gathering there. “One of them came actually close to beating me!”

It put a genuine smile on Jaime’s face. He felt glad that Bart seemed to feel better know. Like a hefty weight eased off his stomach and allowed him to breathe again. “That’s amazing, think we should get him on the team?” He joked.

“Hey, there can only be one speedster!” Bart laughed and gave Jaime a small push. “So, what have you been doing while I was gone?”

“About that, I need to tell you something…” He grabbed Bart’s hands and looked him straight in the eye. But a more evil streak got the best of him and he quickly changed his mind. “I think I’ll just show you,” he smirked as he started walking to where they had dropped off their backpacks.

“Show me what?” Bart questioned, but Jaime didn’t answer. Jaime grabbed their bags and just pulled him hurriedly along. “We’re not going out, are we? It’s still snowing!”

“That’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” Bart pulled himself free from Jaime’s hold and frowned. “We promised we wouldn’t do anything normal people wouldn’t be able to do either.”

“It has nothing to do with the team, Bart. I promise,” He grabbed a hold of Bart’s hands again, but this time intertwined their fingers. “But you have to trust me, cariño.”

Bart huffed, but managed to give Jaime a weak smile anyway. He grumbled a ‘ _fine_ ’ and walked along to where Jaime was heading them. As he was heading through the many halls, and down the escalators and elevators, they finally arrived at the parking lot. A black car had just driven in and parked right in front of them. Jaime turned to Bart and gave him the biggest grin he could manage before he held the door open for his boyfriend. Bart raised an eyebrow and tried to fake disinterest, but he was dying to know what the hell was happening.

“Are you sure that driving during a snowstorm is a good idea?”

“It’s okay, our driver’s got a lot of experience under his belt,” Jaime whispered back. They fastened their seatbelts and soon they were driving onto the road. Bart felt a little uneasy not being able to see jackshit, but the driver seemed to have it handled just fine. Bart wished he could see where they were going, so he could find out what Jaime was planning, but it was all left as a surprised thanks to Mother Nature.

 _Thanks, you bitch_.

Soon after, the car drove into a parking lot under, what looked like, a huge apartment building. They stepped out of the car and before Bart managed to sneak a glance at their driver, he was pulled along with his boyfriend to the elevators. Jaime pressed on the highest button and the doors started to close. He could see his boyfriend’s excitement grow bigger and Bart was left to wonder what was so special about this place. The doors opened and Bart gasped at the sight he saw. He was looking at a grade A, expensive-ass penthouse that was furnished like one of those fancy catalogues Grandma Iris always gets.

“Why are we here?” Bart asked as he walked into the penthouse. He turned and turned until it felt like he was going to be dizzy, but there was just so much to _see._

“While you were gone, I found the newspaper page you hid from me.”

“I didn’t hide it from you. I just didn’t show it to you. You could’ve gotten that anywhere,” Bart countered quickly.

Jaime puffed, but continued anyways. “I remembered that Tim doesn’t quite often need his penthouse. And we still needed a place.”

“...No way.” He looked abaft and his eyebrows started to furrow. “You didn’t…”

“I asked Tim if it was okay to borrow his place for the while. He was cool with it. So, for the time being, this place is ours.”

Bart managed another look around the place. Emotions started flashing across his face, from happiness to worry and from fear to relief. It was just… so out of the blue?

Ha. _Blue._

Without warning Bart sped across to Jaime’s side and crashed their lips together. The speed knocked them over and both fell to the ground, but Bart didn’t let go. He moved his lips over his lover, giving him a strong and passionate kiss. Like he’d die if he let go.

It was awkward at best, but Jaime kissed him back with all he had. It was everything that Bart was and felt, and he’d take all of it. And he’d return the same. Breathless, they parted. Their lids half lidded and their clothes already dishevelled.

Bart held Jaime’s face with both hands and just smiled. “Thank you… for making this happen,” he whispered.

“You should probably thank Tim. He made everything possible,” Jaime smiled sweetly. He held Bart closed, pulled him in by his waist. “It’s about time we found a place.”

“Yeah… Thank God I hid that newspaper from you huh?” Cackles echoed from the walls as Bart laughed.

“So, you did hide it from me!” He mocked hurt and looked away. “Bart Allen, how could I ever trust you again?”

“Well… I can think of a few things.” He showed a wicked smile and Jaime knew he was in for a long, well-deserved night. This time in his own temporarily borrowed place.

. _..He’d fix that later._


	2. Lazy Mornings (Bluepulse)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Bart have been living in the Watchtower for a few weeks now. Bart misses seeing the real sun on Jaime's skin, but he doesn't mind as their morning is wasted away in the best kind of way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Future fic, Bart should be around 23, and Jaime around 26/27.

Bart woke up to the sweet sensation of someone kissing his neck. He could feel soft lips moving to his pulse, giving small pecks until he could feel Jaime suck on the sensitive flesh. Bart groaned and tried to turn around, but the arm wrapped around him made it hard to even move an inch...

“Jaime?” Bart mumbled as he tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

“Mhm, good morning,” Jaime whispered as he tightened his hold on the younger male. He kissed more along his neck and started to suck in certain spots, making Bart close his eyes and sigh in pleasure. It’s not often that Jaime is the one to initiate things, which is a pity really. Bart loves when Jaime takes control.

Bart gave a breathy moan, “Ahh, yeah, ‘morning.” Jaime freed his grip on him and shifted in order to lie on his lover directly. Bart groaned and tried to push him away. “You’re heavy!” He tried to be annoyed, but his voice was light and giggles left him as Jaime shifted again.

“Am I?” He whispered huskily as he licked the same spot on his neck. “I didn’t hear you complaining last night,” Jaime teased, giving Bart a small peck on his lips.

Bart flushed and gave Jaime a small shove, “Stop teasing, it’s too early for that.” He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks and tried his best to look the other way.

Jaime grinned, “Lo siento, mi amor,” he murmured against Bart’s lips. “Please look at me?”

It was totally unfair. Every time Jaime whispered something in that sweet voice of his, Bart was unable to do anything else. It was like being pulled by magic. Bart moved to look Jaime straight in the eye and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He loved seeing Jaime’s face, his dishevelled hair, his still sleepy eyes. Everything about him was perfect. He missed seeing his face in the morning light, missed seeing his eyes light up by the sun, or the glow it gave his skin. Wished to live on Earth again. To be alone with Jaime.

“Te amo,” it came out as a small whisper, something Jaime probably hadn’t want to say out loud, but Bart was glad he did. It made his heart skip a beat and his smile broader. Felt like the air was rushing out of his lungs, but in a good way.

“I love you too,” he whispered back as if it was supposed to be a secret. To stay unheard from strangers’ ears, like it was only meant for Jaime to hear.

Bart moved to lightly stroke his lover’s cheek, but his wrist was caught and brought to Jaime’s lips instead. He kissed his wrist, his palm, every finger the younger man had. It oddly felt like Jaime was squeezing his heart, at least that was what the speedster was telling himself. Not even after ten years did Bart have a sensible way of explaining what Jaime did to him. What he felt like when he was with him. He just knew that he was happy, and God, he didn’t want it to stop.

The way Jaime looked at Bart made him melt, unable to move from his gaze. Bart loved mornings like these. It was just the two of them, no arguing, no quarrelling, just the peace morning gave. Everything was slow and just the right kind of lazy. Bart hooked his arms around Jaime’s neck, wanted to enjoy being so close to him. Their foreheads touched, their noses nudged each other, it was peaceful.

Their morning was spent in sweet whispers of nothing in each other’s ears and the ghost of their lips roaming around. Jaime was still on top of him, their legs were a tangled mess and all of the air in Bart’s lungs was constantly getting pushed out by Jaime’s weight, but that didn’t mind him in the slightest. He wanted it. Wanted to feel him up close, hear him breathe. Everything that proved that this moment was real. Jaime had placed his arms beside Bart’s head, caging him in.

“No hay nadie como tú, mi amor.”

Bart giggled, “I only understood the last part, but I’m sure it was something incredibly sweet.”

“It means that there is no one like you,” Jaime sheepishly grinned. He gave Bart a peck at the corner of his mouth before he moved up and shifted to the side of the bed. Bart looked as Jaime stretched his arms above his head, watched at the way Jaime’s muscles contracted and relaxed, stared at the two small dimples in his lower back, how it all curved perfectly when Jaime stood up to pick up his discarded clothes from the night before.

Jaime looked behind him. “You’re staring,” he observed.

“Can’t help it,” Bart mused, “I like what I see.”


	3. Coffee? (Birdflash)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are not many things that annoy Dick Grayson. If, however, he had to name a few things it would probably be loud music, yelling and dogs that like to bark at 3 A.M. Sadly, his new, obnoxious neighbour harboured all three of those factors.

There are not many things that annoy Dick Grayson. If, however, he had to name a few things it would probably be loud music, yelling and dogs that like to bark at 3 A.M. Sadly, his new, obnoxious neighbour harboured all three of those factors, making Dick want to scream in frustration. Especially since his landlord won’t do anything about it, since he doesn’t _believe_ him. His neighbour managed to erase all traces of a dog’s existence at his apartment. And since the noise disturbance is beneath the highest limit of decibels allowed in that apartment complex, there’s nothing that can be done. 

He was pacing around in his living room, trying to remember all the important notes he wrote down on his flashcards for his next exam. And then it had started again; _the yelling_. Whatever his neighbours occupation was, it sure as hell involved a lot of yelling and cursing. Followed by angrily stomping out of the apartment and banging the door shut. 

Dick sighed, when he first met his neighbour he seemed just fine. A man around his age with short, messy, ginger hair. A tad shorter than him and overall a funny guy. Dick would never have thought that this same guy was a curse from hell. It was the third month since that man moved next to him and Dick couldn’t remember when he _wasn’t_ woken up at the ass crack of dawn by his neighbour’s dog. He’d seen the dog a few times before, a German Shepard. Cute thing, still extremely playful and liked to get her teeth in things. Like Dick’s door for example, which had tons of teeth and claw marks on it. Or Dick’s bruise from where she had bit him in his ankle.

He paused his pacing and threw himself on the couch, slumping almost _dramatically_. He reached for his phone, fumbling with the case until he grabbed a hold of it. Immediately his brows furrowed in a way even Bruce would be impressed. He had three missed calls from a private number. Knowing Dick couldn’t call them back, he flicked his phone back on the table. Maybe a nap to catch up his sleep would be a good idea. He did feel exhausted…

*

When Dick woke up, groggy and thirsty as fuck, he looked up the time on his phone. With one arm over his eyes and the other blindly harassing the coffee table he managed to find his phone and unlock the screen. He yelped at the brightness of the screen, his grip loosening and it smacked right across his face. 

“Pff, ouch—“

Groaning, he held his face as he pushed himself off the couch and onto the ground. He snatched his phone again, this time without accident, and waited for his eyesight to get used to the brightness.

_2:18 A.M_

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me…. I slept _eight_ hours?” he groaned miserably. Then again, this meant he was just in time for—

_“Woof! Woof!”_

_That._

Dick fumed. This was seriously unbe- _fucking_ -lievable. How could this asshole keep getting away with this shit? _How was Dick the only one who complained?_ This asshole was so loud and obnoxious, and nothing was being done to make it stop! Well, Dick had had enough of it. All of it. With an almost inhuman speed he dialled a phone number and pressed _call._

In a matter of minutes the police for non-emergency situations showed up, after Dick explained the situation again they moved to the previous door and started knocking. Dick stayed unmoving at his doorway. He could hear the guy stumbling to his door and swinging it open. His hand never left the knob and his body was already hanging half out of the doorway, must’ve fallen on his way through the door. He slowly looked up to look at the lady as he slowly started to speak;

“Helen, as it is always lovely to see your face, I do wonder why the hell it’s at two-thirty in the fucking morning.”

“There was a complaint about noise Wallace. And you seem to be the cause.”

“Excuse me?”

“Someone filed a complaint—probably because of the dog. Rosie’s always been a bit rowdy at this hour.”

“You don’t say?” Dick could hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice. But more importantly, he was left to stare in shock at the scene unfolding. The two _knew_ each other? And… But… that meant he would get away with it _again._

“You got to be fucking joking me…” Dick mumbled, earning a glance from the officer. 

“I’m gonna give you a warning, since the dog is gonna be transferred tomorrow. Don’t let me come here again, Wallace,” she warned. She started to walk away when she turned back, “By the way, I’m gonna tell this to the entire office, this shit’s hilarious!” She roared, her voice bouncing of the walls and echoing through the entire hallway.

Wally sighed and looked towards Dick, rubbing his neck and having a pained expression plastered on his face. “Really, the cops?”

“Damn straight the cops,” Dick hissed back. Though maybe that wasn’t a smart idea, since he found out that his neighbour was a damn cop too. 

“Ugh, listen… I’m sorry for all the noise. The dog had no other place to go at the moment, so my boss threw that at me—and don’t worry there won’t be any barking, we found a place for—“

“Great. Fucking marvellous. What about the loud music, or the constant yelling?”

“…Okay, so you obviously aren’t fond of me—“

“--Hate you,” Dick mumbled out.

“Perhaps hate me even. But listen, let me make it up to you, okay? What about I take you out for coffee—as many times as you want—and we get to know each other better?” He goofily grinned. “Watcha say? Truce?”

Dick scoffed and scowled at the man, but he still extended his arm. Though he didn’t feel like getting to know this asshole any time soon, he did like the coffee arrangement. He shook the man’s hand and took the liberty to crush his bones at the same time.

“A-Ahaha…. Strong grip you got there,” he laughed, uncomfortably, and pried his hand back to his chest. “The name’s Wally by the way.”

“Dick.”

“E-Excuse me?”

Dick rolled his eyes. “My name,” he extended, “is Dick.”

“Well then, _Dick_ , I’ll see you tomorrow morning at eight. If you want that coffee.” He winked, and then walked back to his own doorway, closing the door behind him.

_What an obnoxious, little…_

_Doesn’t matter_ , Dick convinced himself, _I’ll get free coffee out of this. What can beat that?_


	4. Have We Met? (JayTim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim's had a horrible day on his way to school. He meets a new stranger, but a nagging feeling tells him they have met before. Though he has no clue where... The stranger however, has no problem clearing Tim's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't forget to leave a comment! I'd love to know what you think of the stories!

Tim woke up to the unbearable screeching of his alarm. And _oh God, this could not be happening_. He’d only slept for three hours, cramming for his lecture that day. And did he— _He’d overslept <_. Tim hurled his blanket to the other side of the room and stood up hastily. He could feel the room go black for a second, before his vision restored back to normal. He sprinted to his bathroom, crashing his little toe against the door frame and was left cursing like a sailor on the ground. 

_Don’t you dare cry, Timothy, you’re more than this_ , he was telling himself in hushed whimpers. 

As if his already awful start of the day couldn’t get worse, the universe answered almost promptly. When Tim hopped to his sink and reached for it, the faucet knob got loose and rolled onto the floor, making water spray everywhere inside of the bathroom. Tim got a face full and tried to block the water by putting his hands against the leakage. He occasionally spat out water and tried to scrunch his eyes and look the other way. 

He didn’t have time for this, he threw some towels on the ground and quickly made his way towards the shower. He showered, dried and dressed in record time, then quickly moved to his phone and leaving a message to his landlord saying what the hell just had happened— _was still happening_.

He grabbed his backpack and ran outside the door, almost immediately realising he didn’t bring his keys with him. Tim groaned in frustration and banged at his closed door, he’d take care of it later. He ran to his bus stop in front of his apartment building, impatiently waiting for his bus to arrive. He took shelter at one of the trees next to the bus stop sign, hiding from the cold rain. But when the bus came within sight, it seemed to have different ideas. It drove past Tim and splashed him with the filthy road water that was on the ground. 

“…Did that just really happen?” he asked himself after a few seconds, almost dumbstruck. “I guess I’ll just walk then.”

On his way to school he decided to get himself a cup of coffee. He needed at least _one good thing_ , before he turned around and stopped giving a flying fuck about this day. One extra-large coffee, a bagel and a banana later he arrived at Gotham University. He walked to his class, apologising for being late and took a seat. 

Of course he had already missed the most important bullet points of the lecture, because, fuck him. That’s why. He slid lower into his seat and merely prayed for this day to be over as soon as possible.

*

At the end of the day, around five P.M or so—even though it looked like eight—Tim was free to go from his prison of Hell. He sat at the bus stop in front of the school waiting for bus 12 back to his apartment building. He was spent and wanted nothing more than to go to bed. 

In the distance he could hear a group approaching, bidding each other farewell and going their own ways. One of the men looked at Tim and got a big grin on his face, he raised his hand and gave a _‘Hey!’_

Tim looked behind him, but there were only bushes. He scrunched up his face and lifted an eyebrow towards the person. The man—quite a handsome fellow, really—manoeuvred his hand to comb through his hair when he saw that Tim wasn’t going to give him a reply. _Or_ a high five. 

The man walked past Tim and mumbled something incoherent, but Tim spared it no time as he saw the bus arriving. The bus stopped and he stepped inside, patiently waiting until he was home.

It did leave a strange feeling in Tim’s gut though, as if he’d seen the handsome man before. They obviously go to the same school, maybe he’d seen him in the hallways? Oh well, nothing to brood over about. 

*

The next week were Tim’s exams. Internally he was crying his eyes out, because he didn’t study enough and he _knew_ he was going to fail Literature II. By a miracle he managed to pass the first class, but Tim had been out of luck ever since. Every exam felt like a battlefield and Literature was no different.

Maybe worse.

After Tim was done with his test, he forced himself to walk to the hallway and sit on the floor. Next to the trashcan, where he belonged. He was blankly staring at the wall, cursing his very existence when the same man from a week before approached him. 

“How’d it go?” He asked tentatively. Tim was sure he already knew though, no one would voluntarily sit next to the trash… At least he hoped no one did that. 

“I pity the teacher who has to look at my work,” Tim answered grimly. 

“That bad, huh?” 

“Yup… and you?”

He pursed his lips, as if in thought. “It was doable,” he answered, nodding his head.

Tim hummed and stared back at the wall. It was nagging at him now. Where had he seen this man before? Does he know him? 

“Sorry—but do I know you?” Tim asked, staring at the man. Only now was he actually looking at this man. Black hair with a white streak, broad shoulders, strong build—Certainly soft on the eyes. 

“Countless of times, actually. I’m in your Literature class,” the guy answered almost monotonously. “Thanks for noticing me at the bus stop by the way.”

Oh. _Oh. Oohh._ That explained a lot actually. Now that Tim thought back at what the man mumbled at the bus stop last week, he could easily make out what he had said. 

_“I’m in your class.”_

Oops.

Tim immediately turned red, God this was embarrassing. He tried to stumble out words, but all his words kind of mushed together and nothing coherent came out.

The man laughed and shrugged it off. “It happens, it’s cool,” he smiled. “You’re Tim, right?”

“Y-Yeah…”

“Cool. Jason,” he said as he extended his arm. Tim grabbed his hand and Jason pulled him back on his feet. “Wish we could talk some more, but I’ve got a train to catch. See ya later, Timmers,” Jason grinned as he looked at his watch. He grabbed a cigarette from his pocket and put it between his lips, moving to the elevator. 

Tim was left dumbstruck, standing like an idiot and looking at the man who had just left. That guy was in his class? How the hell did Tim never notice this… And to make matters worse, they had their Christmas break after today. The next time Tim would see him, was in three weeks…

Well, at least now he had something to look forward to, he thought with a smirk.


	5. Interns and Teachers (DickTim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On his way to becoming a teacher, Tim is interning at a school. Dick is his workplace supervisor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, I’m in my second year at university. I’ve been studying to become an English teacher and every year I must intern at a school to become better at teaching. Today, I had my first full-90-minutes lesson. It was exciting and terrifying, and I felt good and bad; kind of like a rollercoaster inside of my head.
> 
> So, to get my thoughts straight and back on track… A fic.
> 
> Let me know if you liked it! (Or absolutely despised it, that’s cool too)

He had been working on these texts for hours. His task was simple, make different texts for different levels. It should have been easy enough, right?

_Lies._

Dick had text messaged him the day before asking if Tim would be so kind to finish Dick’s work for him. And of course, Tim couldn’t say no. Dick was basically his employer, there was no way he could refuse. Thus, the reason how Tim ended up in front of his laptop, surrounded by discarded cans of Red Bull at 2 A.M.

“You’re still busy with that?”

Tim turned to look at Bart, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. His shirt—which was probably Jaime’s shirt—slid off his shoulder as he stretched his arms out and moved to sit next to Tim. He wondered if Jaime was now with him and he just didn’t notice… Or maybe Bart stole one of his shirts. _Again._ He stole Tim’s shirts often enough too. 

“Yeah, I’m almost done. Just need to finish The B1 text and send it to Dick.”

“Kinda dick move of him, don’t you think?” Bart mumbled under his breath. “You need me to help you? I’m not really that tired anymore.”

Tim had wanted to say no. But he was tired and rather sick of doing this. He felt guilty by asking Bart for help, but he dreadfully wanted this to be over. “Actually, yeah. I still need to do seven short texts. Could you do three of them? All you need to do is adjust the vocabulary from A2 to B1 and extend it by two paragraphs.”

Bart nodded, “sure, no probs. Does it have to be valuable information or just random stuff?” He asked as he looked at Tim’s computer. 

“Random information. I’ll send a copy to your email.”

Bart wasn’t in Tim’s class, but was in the same year and doing the same course as Tim. Bart was studying to become a physics teacher, but took on a few extra classes of English. They became good friends over two years ago, and now shared an apartment—Since they both didn’t want to live in a student dormitory. 

“So why did Dick ask you to his work?”

“Exams are coming up. He’s probably on the verge of a burn-out,” Tim explained, his eyes never leaving his screen.

“Like we’re not going to have our exams as well,” Bart scoffed as he grabbed his laptop, which was thrown on the couch a few hours prior. “And we have this shit on top of it too. Hall did the same thing to me, asking me to do his stuff.”

Tim stilled his movements on his keyboard and glanced over at Bart, “Isn’t it better though? We’re supposed to do their work to learn,” he contemplated. “And we could always say no,” he said, even though he knew they couldn’t. 

“I mean—yeah, but I don’t like it. I already have so much shit to do, it’s all getting too moded, y’know?”

Tim hummed in agreement. These past few days had felt like a battlefield. What he really needed was some damn vacation. And probably 72 hours’ worth of sleep. 

*

Tim was preparing for his first solo 90-minutes-lesson at the teacher lounge. He had every document and tab open that he would need and was about to pack his stuff when Dick walked in. He had to make a quick call to one of his students’ parents and had walked to a bit more isolated area. 

It was nice having Dick as his supervisor, he was helpful, good at his job and knew how to give good feedback. But it was hard trying not to compare himself with Dick, since Tim knew he was still a bit insecure and didn’t feel comfortable yet whilst giving lessons. Dick was trying his outmost best to guide Tim, but he couldn’t help it. Some days just went awful and Tim would go straight home on those days. He’d dart into his bed and just sleep the entire day off. 

Some days Tim just felt awful. And some days Dick was at wit’s end. 

“How’d it go?” he asked, packing the exercises into a plastic map. 

Dick made a face and shrugged. “I’m not really sure, the kid’s parents are pissed off—which makes sense, of course. I tried to simmer this mess down, but they’re not having it.” 

He looked worried, Tim noticed. From what he knew, the parents of this student were stern and would get upset with anything lower than a seven. So, yesterday, when this kid got a six on a test, he had burst down in tears. Probably ashamed of his grade—or maybe terrified… 

“We could invite his parents to school? Make clear agreements on what to do next and hopefully calm them down,” Tim suggested. 

Dick thought it over and then grinned widely, “You know, that’s an amazing idea. Good job, Timmy,” Dick put in and ruffled Tim’s hair. “I think I’m gonna do that. So, you’re prepared for your lesson?”

Tim nodded. He had everything he needed, had spent seven hours on this alone trying to perfect it. 

“Great! I’ll just do the same thing then. I’m gonna sit at the back and write down everything that catches my attention. And if you need me, just give me a signal and I’ll step in, okay?” Dick gave a hearty pat on Tim’s shoulder and then moved to the espresso machine in the teacher’s lounge. 

Tim swallowed once, twice and then shook his head. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel nauseous. Luckily, he got to pick the class, so at least he won’t be stuck with a bunch of little assholes. The school bell rang and Tim walked to the classroom.

*

It was the end of his lesson, Tim and Dick sat in the teacher’s lounge. Dick was organising his papers to give Tim his feedback. Tim didn’t feel bad about his lesson this time. Most times he’d feel drained, but this time he still had some energy left. The lesson didn’t go great, but it went well. He managed to do every activity he had planned and was astonished to see that the students loved the texts he had made for his own lessons. 

“Okay, so Tim, how did you think it went?”

“Good. I didn’t feel nervous and I didn’t forget anything. I managed to help the students during their exercises and got positive feedback from them as well,” Tim answered truthfully.

“Was there something that didn’t go well?”

“Uhm—Going from one exercise to the other, I guess. It kind of went problematic, but I managed to quiet everything down.”

Dick smiled, “you did. That was good, by the way. Overall, I think you’ve done well. You looked more confident up there than you did when we started this schoolyear,” Dick started, turning pages over in his notebook and reading what was written there. “There are two things I noticed on which you can improve. Once you give an activity, you don’t tell the students why they’re getting it. Furthermore, you say what they’re supposed to do, but it isn’t written anywhere.”

Tim wrote down the feedback while Dick continued. He tried to write quickly, because he knew once Dick started, he wouldn’t stop unless he was done. Tim didn’t really mind, that way it would be quickly done and he got the chance to ask more. 

“I saw you had to repeat yourself a lot, because there was nowhere written what they were supposed to do. Next time, try to write it down on the board. As for why you should explain why---“

It was always during times like these that Tim kind of zoned out and just automatically wrote down whatever Dick was saying. He was glad that there were only two things this time he could improve on. Last year, a supervisor of a different school had given Tim an entire list of things, fuelling Tim’s anxiety and stress. Especially because the last supervisor didn’t hold back and sort of crushed Tim’s spirit… 

Dick was now moving on all the good things Tim had done during his lessons, Tim noticed. Something about better being able to concentrate during the lesson— Ah, yeah. That was a problem at the beginning. You see, Tim has had many teachers in his life, but no one looked like Dick, that was for damn sure. 

At the very beginning of this school year, Tim would become nervous when Dick was looking at him. Who wouldn’t when a complete stud was smiling at you like that? There was an entire crowd of girls standing near Dick’s classroom or the teacher lounge, just trying to catch a glimpse of him. 

Tim used to fantasize a lot about Dick. Still does, to be honest. In his weakest moments, he’d think of all the things they could do inside of the classroom, if they’d be alone. He’d think of the touches that Dick would give them, how they could be if it were in a more intimate setting. Of how their bodies would be close, a hand in his hair, pulling up Dick’s shirt—God the possibilities were endless, and Tim loved every single one of them.

“So, well done! I’m really proud of you, for giving this lesson!” Dick’s voice flooded back in. He had a huge grin on his face and ruffled Tim’s hair. 

Too bad it would never happen…

“Thanks for the feedback,” Tim smiled back. “I’ll be sure to write it down in my report.”

Dick laughed, “No problem.” He grabbed Tim’s notes and signed it, then passed it back. He started to organise his papers again when he looked at Tim and asked “You got any plans this weekend?”

“Hmm, no. Just studying probably, why?”

“Well, a thing I do with all my interns is to get to know them better,” he placed his weight on one leg and scratched his neck, having a troubled expression on his face. “But I feel like I don’t really know you? Like… I can’t get you to really open up?” He coughed and immediately stammered, “Not that it’s necessary, I just want to be able to help you more. And it’d be easier if I knew a bit more about you.”

Tim stared blankly. Was his supervisor really asking him this? “Uhh, sure… We can hang out this weekend,” Tim drawled cautiously. 

“Awesome, I’ll text you the goods later!”

After that everything became sort of a blur. Tim observed how Dick taught in the next class and was then dismissed and free to go home. He was… excited? To hang out with Dick… 

But also terrifying. He had spent months trying to block out every single R-rated thought about Dick and now it felt like it would all fall apart with _one night._ Oh well… Shit happens, right? Just wait till Tim tells Bart about this, he’s going to _freak_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought of this chapter?
> 
> Truthfully, I have mixed feelings. I feel like there's something missing? I feel bored when I read all of my works back. The only chapter I'm really happy with is Chapter 2, to be honest. 
> 
> I don't know, man...


	6. Enjoy The Moment (BatFlash)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally passed out during a mission. He wakes up with Bruce at his side.

Wally couldn’t breathe. He was gasping for air, trying to grasp for—anything. He hunched over, tried to think, but nothing came to mind. All he felt was pain, his muscles painfully contracting, and a feeling like the world was spinning around him. He tried his best to remember what had happened, where he was, what his mother’s maiden name was, but there was nothing. He was empty, out of memories—and _air._

He fell to his knees, could faintly hear voices around him, but al he saw were blurry colours. He put his hand on the ground, stopped himself from falling face first into the rubble. He tried to breathe, but it felt like his lungs were cramping. 

He fell on his side. When had that happened? Why hadn’t he noticed? 

Why was everything getting black?

 

*

“ _Bat—Bruce, I just got in that something happened to Wally. He’s out.”_

That had peaked Bruce’s attention almost immediately. His hand moved to his communicator and he unmuted it. “What do you mean ‘he’s out,’ Clark?”

_“I don’t know, that’s all I got. Diana thinks Luthor is onto us.”_

“Where is he now?”

It was silent for a while, the communicator rustled before his voice could be heard again. _“The people at the ball called an ambulance. Shayera went with him, her comm’s out though. I tried contacting her, but she’s not responding.”_

Bruce cursed under his breath and muted his comm again. Exactly what the hell had happened…

They were supposed to be on an undercover mission, no room for mistakes. But this—No one could have foretold this. Luthor had to be behind it. And if that was truly the case, then Wally had little time left. Bruce walked down the stairs of the venue where the charity gala was held and strutted over to Diana. He put his hand on her shoulder and whispered “Change of plans, we’re cornering Luthor _now._ ”

Diana nodded and quickly moved along Bruce to where they knew Luthor was hiding. He was in a back room, talking to someone. Bruce grabbed a smoke bomb from where he had hid it in his tailored suit and Diana moved to knock the other man out. She then grabbed her lasso, which she was using as a belt for her black dress, and restrained Luthor with it. Bruce moved to bind a handkerchief around Luthor’s eyes, making sure he wouldn’t see them.

“What did you to your guests?” The gruff voice of Batman sounded.

“I don’t know what—“ 

“What did you do to Wally West?” Wonder Woman’s voice chided. 

“Ah, him. The scientist. He got a taste of Cadmus’ newest project,” Luthor smiled, albeit shocked he was telling them this. 

Bruce moved to grab him by his collar and hoisted him up, nearly chocking him in the process. “You’re going to tell us what you did and how to reverse it. And after, I’ll make sure to throw you in Arkham,” he growled. 

*

Wally groaned as he started to wake up. He felt like he was hit by a brick. He tried to look around him, to see where he was, but his body was pushed back into the bed he was in. 

“You shouldn’t move around yet,” Bruce voice sounded.

“’ere am I?” Wally mumbled, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes. 

“The hospital. We couldn’t blow our cover, so we had to move you here.”

He wanted to ask more, but he still felt exhausted. He stared in Bruce’s direction, trying to pinpoint the blurry figure in his vision. He could hear the rhythmic beep from the machine next to him, which should be impossible, since Wally’s heart wouldn’t beat so damn slow. Unless he was dying of course, then it should be completely plausible, but that wasn’t the case!

Or he died and went to heaven, because was Bruce _fucking_ Wayne throwing another blanket over him and trying to feed him soup?

“’at are you doin’?” Wally slurred, moving his head away from the scalding hot spoon.

“You need to eat.”

He dodged another one of Bruce’s attempts to feed him the offensively hot liquid and glared at him. At least, he hoped that was him. “Ur gonna burn me with thad.”

Bruce seemed to have caught on, because he started to blow on the spoonful of soup before he tried to feed the speedster. Wally was only now noticing that he was famished and could probably eat nine more bowls. But he’d mention that later, right now he just wanted to enjoy the moment.


	7. Misunderstood (TimDami)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian and Tim never really got along, but sometimes a cup of Alfred’s coco and some good music can do the trick. Or maybe it’s the fact that Tim’s sick and disregards every insult Damian throws at him and said Demon Spawn gave up, got his mobile and played music to ignore Drake’s presence. Either way, Tim’s sure the kid has no soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, I think a little over a week. I'm back with a small one-shot. I hope you like it!

Tim wasn’t planning on coming to the manor, _heck_ , he wasn’t even planning on staying in Gotham. But plans change and big brothers meddle with their younger brother’s business and now Tim’s being surveyed 24/7 without privacy. And even though Tim knows he should thank them-- because he’d probably kill himself in a week with this cold—he feels no sympathy towards their actions, as he is now Damian’s personal punching bag, whipping-boy and scapegoat. 

He just didn’t _get_ the little shit. He can’t quite remember doing anything harmful to him, the little demon started with a murder attempt at his life! And even though he doesn’t try to kill him nowadays— _actively_ —he still does everything to make Tim’s day a fucking mess.

Like this morning, Tim went to the kitchen and wanted some coffee, so what does the little shit do? He grabs the cup and empties it in the sink. And after that he tried to work on some files, so he steals his laptop. He wanted to go for a walk, so he locks him up in his room! Everything he’s done today was solely done to royally piss Tim off and he’s had it. He was sick and tired and wanted to be left alone, he needed to _breathe_.

Hence him sitting on the balcony of his room, petting Alfred the cat and reading a book. At this point he didn’t even care that it was minus five degrees outside, he had a blanket, a cat and a heater with him—he could take this.

As the hours went on and Tim neared page one-hundred-and-fifty of his literature book, the door to his room was opened and there in all its demonic glory stood Damian; looking royally pissed.

He shooed Alfred away, took Tim’s book and threw it inside, shut down the heater and before Tim even had the time to process this all—let alone comment on it—he was literally thrown over Damian’s shoulder. He closed the door to the balcony and then moved outside the room, towards the living room, where he threw Tim on the couch and gave him a hardened look.

“For a person with an IQ of 142, you are by far the most dim-witted man I have ever encountered,” the kid was growling as he was throwing another blanket over Tim, including his face. “Sick and he sits outside, moronic ass—“ he grumbled mostly to himself. 

“Leave me the hell alone, demon brat,” Tim spat, trying to push the blankets away from him, but Damian just pushed him back on the couch and wrapped him up again with ease. “You have been _so annoying_ ,” he grunted, trying to recover from being pushed down and wrapped up in his fleece imprisonment. 

Damian simply ‘tsk’ed and rolled his eyes, not soon after he walked away. Tim tried to get out of the blankets, but he rather liked the warmth that was starting to cling to him. His eyes were getting a bit droopy at this point and he hadn’t noticed that Damian had returned with two cups in his hand. Tim immediately knew that was Alfred’s coco, nothing else could compare to that amazing aroma that Alfred always managed to create.

Tim managed to free one of his arms and accept the cup Damian gave him. He sat up and took a deep breath of the amazing smell and already some of the tension—he didn’t even know he had—melted away. He took a small sip and he didn’t even care the tip of his tongue scorched away, it was by far worth it. He soon after finished the cup and _damn_ , since when did he feel so tired?

Meanwhile Damian lit up the fireplace and took seat in one of the opposite couches. He grabbed his phone and his earphones and started to listen to music while he was sketching in one of his notebooks. The music was definitely not English, sounded like Arabic from here. It was… a bit of a surprise? Tim didn’t really know Damian all that well—Given, he tried to kill him a few times, so he didn’t quite care for getting to know him—so he hadn’t expected him to still really… do things that were connected to his Arabic culture. He has been here for almost eight years now, so Tim hadn’t really thought about it. 

Tim was almost asleep by now, he knew. His eyes completely closed and his breathing even, it was only a matter of time now before he entered REM sleep. It was at that point of time that he heard two completely new voices; soft enough not to wake him, but loud enough to be heard.

 _“It’ll take time, you can’t expect him to forget everything’s that happened,”_ a voice spoke. Was that Jason?

 _“I know… I just—I didn’t have ill intentions, I wanted to help,”_ Damian’s voice sounded. _“He exasperates me sometimes.”_

 _“Don’t we all?”_ Jason laughed. _“It won’t be easy.”_

 _“Drake has always been well at seeing the good in others… Is there nothing in me then?”_ Damian asked, suddenly much softer.

 _“Hey,”_ Jason murmured. _“There’s good in you Damian, we all know that. Tim knows that too—I’m sure of it. It’ll just take some time before—“_

 _“Before he stops despising me?”_ Damian scoffed.

 _“You’re misunderstood, it happens. But you’ll see, everything will turn out just fine,”_ Jason commented.

Soon the footsteps moved away, to another room perhaps. Tim wasn’t quite sure what he heard, if he hadn’t dreamt it all, but he felt too heavy and too tired to care at the moment. He’d think about it when he woke up—if he could remember it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hated it, loved it, or some general tips? Everything's welcome!


	8. Fresa Daiquiri (DickTim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim keeps his word and meets up with Dick, he hadn’t thought that they’d go to a club though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I gave my first grammar lesson and I’m so proud of myself! Everything went amazingly well, I’m still in shock. (I explained the Passive). I tend to panic whenever I have to do something entirely new, I’m just not a fan of leaving my comfort zone, I suppose. But I’m glad that I have a coach who always pushes me out of it, even though I fight back haha. 
> 
> Because of this little victory, I made another part of Interns and Teachers. (Chapter 5)
> 
> And because I’m in a festive mood--and I’ve been listening to Chantaje and Shape of You the entire day—let’s make things interesting for our couple as well ;)

Tim’s schedule was _packed_. He had to write six reports—all of them had to be at least twenty pages or more and oh lord… he was so _screwed_. He still needed to send his lesson plans to Dick and create a PowerPoint presentation, exercises and answer keys.

_Shit…_

It was currently the ass-crack of dawn and Tim was already half-sprinting— _half-falling_ —to the living room and yanking his laptop open. In the distance there was a soft _‘click’_ and the soft hum of the kettle spread throughout the apartment. He didn’t have the time to look who was up as well, he didn’t even have time for breakfast, or coffee, or personal hygiene. 

Yuck, not his proudest day.

He decided that the PowerPoint presentation was the top priority now. If he send that first, he technically didn’t have to send Tim a lesson plan. He didn’t like receiving those in the first place, since a teacher should know how to improvise. But that would be _way_ too early for Tim to carry out. He had tried it before and almost had a panic attack during class… That was during the beginning of the schoolyear though, he’s been working at Dick’s school for four months now and he astonished himself with his rapid development. 

He actually needed three books, one explaining what a teacher should do in class, one explaining what a teacher should do when they’re teaching English grammar and one explaining how a student can effectively learn. 

He used neither.

Instead, he turned to YouTube and watched videos on how other teachers explained their grammatical topic. And on that faithful day, Timothy Jackson Drake learned a valuable lesson. YouTube videos make _way_ more sense than books. In truth, even Tim had troubles with this particular topic, but for once in his life he finally understood it perfectly. 

Damn, he should have done this in high school. His grades would have sky-rocketed.  
He had almost finished his presentation when someone set a plate with scrambled eggs and a mug with black coffee next to his laptop. Since he was ahead of schedule he chose to look who his angelic saviour was, _he was starving._

“Thought you might need this, hermano,” Jaime announced. 

Ahh, that meant that he had slept over. …When did he even come in? 

_I swear, this guy’s like a damn ninja sometimes._

Tim stilled his fingers and then smiled at Jaime, “Thanks, I could use a break.”

“No problem, I was making breakfast anyway,” he offered, turning back to the kitchen to grab himself a cup of coffee. “I’m surprised you’re awake this early,” he then added.

“Without coffee?” Tim finished for him and then grinned, “The panic’s keeping me awake.”

Jaime almost spat out his drink from the unexpected laughter, but managed to swallow it down. “I don’t think that’s healthy, ese” he smiled as he shook his head, putting his mug back on the counter. 

“You tell me, you study medicine,” Tim laughed, taking a huge bite of the eggs on his plate and almost immediately getting a mouth-gasm. How the hell could he make these eggs taste so good? They were just _eggs._

“I study _teeth_ , ese. And that’s because I’m not a safety hazard in the kitchen,” Jaime explained, and then grinned, looking Tim right in the eye. “You were doing that thing again, when you say your thoughts aloud,” he chuckled. 

Tim turned red and returned his gaze back to his screen, incoherently mumbling nonsense in a faint attempt to change the subject. He gobbled his eggs up, gulped his scorching, hot coffee down and handed the dishes back to Jaime—who gladly took them and put them in the sink to wash them, unlike two other men who lived in this apartment.

Hey, teachers are busy people okay? Don’t judge.

*

It was around four p.m. when Tim received a message. He had just sent his presentation to Dick and was working on his lesson plans for _Methodology_ , he wasn’t even close to being done though. This subject was one which Tim hated with a passion. It teaches you how to make lesson plans on different kind of lessons, like an inductive lesson or a receptive lesson and—blablabla. You just keep doing the same thing in an endless loop and the school expects that the students won’t turn insane. Which is an insane thought alone. 

He picked up his phone and opened his messages to see that Dick had messaged him.

Oh God, was his presentation not good? Did he have to use his book? Or does Dick need his help with something… but Tim was already so busy! 

He shook his head and—albeit dreadfully-opened his messaged to see what Dick had sent him.

_‘Hey Tim, u still free?’_

For an English teacher, he texts _awfully_. Tim could lie and say he was busy… which wasn’t actually a lie, it was the damn truth. But if Dick needed his help because he was bordering a burn-out, he truly needed to help. If Dick took days off, that would mean that Tim had less internship days and that he wouldn’t get a sufficient grade on his report. And if failed this course he had to do it all over again, including the internship. Which would take an _entire year._

Yup, he needed to lie and say he was free.

_Never thought I’d say that…_

He started to text back, _‘Yeah, I’m free. What’s up?’_

Almost instantly he received a text back from Dick. _‘Wanna hang out? 8 p.m., I might now a place ;)’_

Do you finally see why Tim had trouble paying attention at the beginning of the school year? It was because of shit like this… He’d say something that could be understood either completely innocent or plainly sinful.

He was used to it by now, though. Now he knew that Dick only wanted to hang out for the sake of ‘getting to know the interns.’ Whatever, if it would give Tim a sufficient grade he’d be down for it. He saved his document and sent a positive reply back and then leant back against the couch, trying to feel his legs. He couldn’t feel shit, he’d been sitting here for _hours._

He crawled back to his room, trying not to scream because now his legs had started to tingle and it felt like a thousand small needles pricking him. He took a quick shower, dried himself off, put on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and then was forced to look at the mess he called his room. He sighed as he started to clean it all up, balling the filthy clothing into the hamper, folding the clean clothing up and placing it on his desk, making up his bed and then putting his clothes in his closet. He grabbed a plastic bag from the bigger plastic bag beneath the counter in the kitchen—Bart collected plastic bags, Tim had no idea why, but he’d take it since it came in useful in numerous occasions—and started to collect all of the littering Red Bull cans, the wrappers from various sorts of food, the plastic water bottles and the many, many take-out boxes. He tied a knot in the plastic bag and then placed it near his trashcan—which he obviously never used—so he could recycle this mess later. He then grabbed a vacuum and started with his room, which then extended to the entire apartment, because this place was a damn mess. 

If Jaime didn’t hang out as much here as he does, then Tim was sure they would’ve been _evicted_ a long time ago.

He stared at the clock, it was a little after six o’clock. He should probably be getting ready and try getting himself ‘presentable.’ It was then that Bart finally got out of his room, the poor guy almost had a mental breakdown and had been sleeping for a _full day_. Which was probably the reason why Jaime was here; to take care of Bart. Even though neither Jaime or Tim had any idea when he’d wake up. 

He looked like he came back from the _dead._

Jaime then popped up from Bart’s room and gave him a quick forehead kiss, he walked to the kitchen and started to warm up the soup he made an hour prior. He grabbed a glass and filled it with water, passing it do Bart who gladly took It and gulped it down. He trudged towards the couch and threw himself on it, staring at Tim.

“Hey,” Bart croaked from the disuse of his voice… or because teaching children is hellish and those kids will make you lose your voice. Probably both, though.

Tim grabbed the blanket which they put over the couch and laid it on Bart, not sure if he really wanted it since he had slept for so long, but Bart gave him a tired smile and wrapped it around himself. 

“Hey… you feeling alright?” Tim asked, trying not to lace his voice with concern, but clearly failing. 

Bart simply shrugged and blinked slowly. “Watcha been up to?” he mumbled, trying to keep his eyes open.

“I have to hang out with Dick,” he explained, grabbing a soft cushion from the other couch and placing that under Bart’s head. “He texted me the address a few minutes ago, some café I think.”

Bart got his hand out from under the blanket and opened his hand, silently claiming Tim’s phone. Tim looked around for the small device when Jaime handed it to him, in which return he handed it Bart. Bart inspected the texts, rolled his eyes one time and then frowned as he inspected the address. 

“Tha’s not-a café, Twimmy, tha’s a club,” he mumbled, giving the phone back to Tim. “Dress sexy, that’ll show the dick.”

Tim turned to Jaime and scrunched an eyebrow. Jaime looked at the address on Tim’s phone and nodded. “Sí, it’s a nice one too,” he commented. 

“’the hell… what are we going to do at a club?” Tim asked himself, frowning as he looked at his phone.

“Fuckin’ score, u hear me?” Bart babbled, still battling with his eyelids. 

Tim rolled his eyes, and cocked his hip, putting his hand there. “I don’t have sexy clothes,” he joked.

“Black pants, make ur ass look great,” he mumbled into the cushion, burying his face there.

“Okay, but I still don’t have a nice shir—you stare at my butt?”

“’course,” he answered curtly. 

…he’d take that as a compliment. Which he would never say aloud, just for your information. Or maybe he already had and Jaime was now judging him… He glanced over at Jaime, but he was pouring the soup into a bowl and bringing it over to Bart. Tim took that as his sign to retreat to his room and figure out what the hell he should wear.

*

He decided to go with Bart’s advice and wear those tight black pants, that he swore were pure sin. He couldn’t find a nice shirt though, so he decided to pick a dark red flannel shirt and make do with that. It was seven-thirty and he really needed to go, otherwise he’d be late. He grabbed his jacket, said goodbye to Bart and Jaime and then walked to the address that Dick had sent him.

It took him about twenty minutes to arrive, but he managed to get there in time. He grabbed his phone, checking to see if Dick had sent anything when a hand on his shoulder shocked him out of his stupor. He turned around to see a broad-smiling Dick, who for once was _early._

“Wow, you look great, Timmy!” he happily grinned, “A lot different from what I’m used to seeing in class.”

Tim just laughed and nodded, he was trying his utter best not to _drool_ over Dick’s outfit. Judging by the fact he wasn’t wearing a coat and he was already covered in sweat, he already had been inside. His shirt was half open, showing his glistening skin which looked like it was steaming in the light of the street lamps. 

“Well, let’s go inside then,” he smiled again, showing the way. Tim placed his coat in the wardrobe and then followed Dick to where he was seated at a booth. To be honest, he felt out of place, it had been a long while since he went to a club and even then he hadn’t gone willingly. He was looking around, looking at the people dancing and having fun, inspecting the club and how it looked. 

The place was _cramped_ , but for some reason the people seemed to like it. The music was fast, but _sensual_ , like you were holding onto someone for dear life. And the lights—the colours—they were blinding, it looked amazing. He was so enthralled by looking around him that he hadn’t heard Dick nearly yelling in his ear. He turned around, quite shocked by the close proximity. 

“You want a drink?” Dick asked, pointing at the bar.

Tim nodded, not even wanting to try and scream above the noise. They walked to the bar, which looked amazing as well, as if it came from an Irish pub. The music was a lot softer hear, he could finally hear Dick now.

“You want to start a little softer?” Dick asked, “Because the Daiquiris here are literally to die for,” he suggested, pointing at one of the plastic flyers around the bar which showed which kind of ones there were. 

Tim nodded and got himself one that was called ‘ _fresa._ ’ He got it fairly quickly and took a sip. It tasted like strawberry, it was sweet and only had a tinge of bitterness. It was definitely something he liked and wanted more of. 

“Hope you don’t find this odd, I really wanted to get to know you better,” Dick started to explain, rustling his hair back. 

“Well, you’re sure picking an interesting side to get to know,” Tim laughed in disbelief. “Though, truthfully, I don’t mind it. I was drowning in all sorts of shit, so I’m sort of glad I’m here.”

“I’m glad you came and didn’t call the cops,” Dick laughed.

“Night’s still young,” Tim winked, but then burst out laughing, to which he was glad that Dick laughed as well. 

They had started to chat a bit, about all sorts of things. They tried to avoid the subject ‘school’ like the plague, wanting to know everything about each other but that. Dick had ordered shots and Tim got himself a _few more_ Daiquiris and suddenly the night became a blur. One Tim was sure he wouldn’t be able to forget. Somehow they sat way closer to each other than first, and the playful remarks they made suddenly turned to harmless flirts. More playful touches, more stares and a _need_ for something.

Tim got out from his chair and bit his lip, looking at the dancefloor, feeling like he needed to do something with this playful energy. He cocked his head towards there and Dick got what he meant. He downed his last shot, payed the bar man and followed Tim to the dancefloor. 

Tim was sure he was tipsy enough that he now had some sense of dancing. It was Tim usually would never do, but it felt like he had to this time. For all the right reasons. The DJ was playing all the right songs and Tim figured that he rather liked the close proximity with other people. They’d been dancing for a few numbers, every time getting closer to each other. He could feel Dick’s hands on his waist, his back close against his chest, but not quite there yet. 

Tim felt hot, like he was burning up. He grabbed the hands on his waist and pulled Dick closer. Dick held him closer to him, tighter, moved in tune with the music. Tim’s hand shot up, cupping Dick’s cheek, moving down to his neck and roaming lower. Dick caught his arm, brought it around Tim, he nuzzled his neck and Tim moved his head, gave him more space. 

Dick’s hands roamed lower, now went to Tim’s hips, helped him move with the rhythm, he turned around, finally was able to look at his face, how close it was. Dick pulled him closer, could almost feel him grinding on him, could feel his skin tingling, getting hotter. He put his hand over the exposed skin of Dick’s shirt, moved his other on to his shoulder, his neck, stared at his lips, remembering how he always wanted to feel those… and then finally feeling them.

Rough and fast, _sensual_ , like the song. He tasted bitter, like the last shot he had, but he wanted more. _Needed_ more. Dick held him close with one arm at his waist, his other went _lower_ , moved over his hip, lower. He squeezed it and Tim wanted to moan, he dragged his tongue along his lips, panting into the kiss. He rolled his hips, needed friction, and Dick groaned. He moved to Tim’s neck, but then moved away. Both were panting, glistening in the coloured light. 

Tim stared at Dick, at his hooded eyes and God, he didn’t want it to end here. 

“Want to get out of here,” Dick husked in Tim’s ear, caressing his cheek. And Tim nodded, _agreed_.

*

They were at Dick’s place, still tipsy from all the alcohol, but sober enough to know what they were doing. Dick had Tim pushed against a wall, smiled into the kiss as he unbuttoned Tim’s shirt and slid it off him. Couldn’t separate from those lips, he closed his eyes as Dick’s lips moved to his jaw, made him look up. Dick gave little pecks, started to suck on his neck, bite into it and Tim moaned, couldn’t keep quiet anymore. 

Tim rolled his hips and Dick _groaned_ , bit harder into his flesh. Tim opened his eyes, clawed at the fabric on Dick’s torso and almost tore it off. Dick smiled, first got Tim’s wrists and trapped them next to his head. He went back for a kiss, sucked on Tim’s bottom lip and lightly bit at it. He guided his wrists over his neck and roamed his hands over Tim’s body, feeling his soft skin and the hard, lean muscle that was there. He moved his hands to his thighs and lifted him up, still had him backed against the wall, and Tim groaned. 

He gripped Dick’s hair, and roughly planted his lips back on him, Dick hoisted him up one more time, to which Tim whined because the lack of friction was _killing_ him. He guided them to his bedroom and threw Tim on there, he bounced once-twice, before Dick was on him again. 

He grasped at his hips, spreading his legs, kissed right under his navel and looked at Tim. _Waiting_. Tim nodded, awkwardly got his shoes off and Dick unbuttoned his jeans, pulled them off as well. He was _hard_ , already leaking. Dick cupped his cock over his boxer shorts and Tim _moaned_ , hadn’t felt so good in a long while. 

Dick licked his lips, “You’re… sure you don’t do this more often?” he panted, looking at Tim and licking his lips.

“’s been a whil- _ahh, dick,_ ” he groaned as Dick squeezed his cock, gave it an experimental stroke. 

“Yes?” he grinned, peeling the fabric lower until it was below Tim’s cock. 

“You’re _overdressed_ ,” Tim panted, feeling his entire body burn up. 

He made a show of it, the way he unbuttoned his jeans, how he slid them down, how he showed the bulge in his underwear. He stepped out of his underwear and slipped Tim’s underwear off as well. He gave a sly wink when he caught Tim staring. His cock was leaking as well, and Tim groaned, needing to feel something. 

“Lay back,” Dick whispered, giving Tim another kiss as he got on his knees. He grabbed a small bottle of lube from his nightstand and opened the cap, pouring a fair amount on his fingers. He placed a kiss on his ribcage, just above his navel, right at the base of his cock and Tim felt those fingers move along his hole, spreading a bit of the lube there, prodding, but not yet pushing in. 

Tim closed his eyes and moved his head back, he shivered, it had been _so long_ since he had pleasured himself. His cock was leaking over it, already so _close_. Two fingers slipped in and Tim moaned, wanting just that, wanting to feel _filled_. The fingers first went _agonisingly_ slow, a soft and steady pace. Tim grasped at the bedsheets, needed something to ground him. He bucked his hips, tried to _move_ , feel more. 

Dick placed another kiss at the base of his cock, lazily moved up until he got to the tip, licked the precum there and Tim _whined_. He placed open-mouthed kisses just under the head, and Tim pulled at the bedsheets. “Yes,” he whined, careful not to buck his hips. “Please, _more_ ,” he breathed, already out of breath. He wanted to fuck himself on those fingers, felt his entire body shivering. Dick started to curl his fingers, took a few tries, but then they moved perfectly over the bundle of nerves and Tim _whined_. Pulled more at the bedsheet and opened his legs more. 

“ _Oh god_ , again, _please_ ,” he begged, and a third finger slipped in. The pace much faster this time and Tim moved along with him, needed it to be _harder_. Dick licked the underside of Tim’s cock, “Mhm, Dick, _slow-ahh-down_ ,” he panted.

Dick slipped his fingers out, kissed right under his navel again, moving slowly back up until their lips met again in a _heating kiss_. Much _hungrier_ than before, harder, more desperate. “You-- liked that?” Dick mumbled throughout kisses,

“ _Yes_ ,” Tim gasped. “Need you— _nhn_ , now,” he panted, cupping his cheek. 

“Gorgeous,” Dick whispered, looking almost enthralled while he looked at Tim, he grasped the bottle of lube again. He poured a fair amount of it directly on his cock and stroked it up and down, whined because of the friction, as the muscles in his belly got tighter and his body started to get hotter. “Can I?” he asked finally, prodding Tim’s hole with his cock and Tim whined, just gave an obscenely loud moan in response and Dick pushed in. Shuddered, because he was so _tight_.

“Fu- _aahh, Dick,_ ” he moans, arching his back and pushing himself even more onto his cock. He’s thick, and slick _and just the way Tim likes it_. He grabbed his own cock and started to move in-time with the thrusts, which came _fast_ and just _perfect._ Tim almost screamed as Dick kept hitting that bundle of nerves _over and over again_. He stroked his dick faster, squeezed at the tip and then slowly stroked back. _He was so close…_

“Come for me, Timmy,” he whispered in his ear, thrusting hard at that same moment. 

For a moment Tim was getting lost in the _rough_ rhythm that Dick had set and the hard grip he had set for himself. He gasped, squeezed at his cockhead as he felt his muscles contracting and his belly going tight, until he came with a loud cry, calling Dick’s name.

Dick bowed his head, thrusting a few more times, groaning as his hips jerked, before he stilled and came as well. Both were panting, trying to catch their breath, trying to _think_. Carefully, Dick pulled out and Tim moaned from the overstimulation, felt his entire body light up. 

Dick stared for a minute, cupping Tim’s cheek before whispering ‘ _gorgeous_ ’ and kissing him again. It was soft, gentle, almost lazy as he got to really enjoy the feeling this time. He laid down next to him and Tim snuggled close to him, not feeling like moving right now, just to hold him close.

And soon enough both eyes were starting to close and their breathes got even.

The mess was something they’d deal with _tomorrow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so Fresa Daiquiri (Strawberry Daiquiri) is my favourite cocktail and I just had to use it as my title hahaha. 
> 
> Also, this was the first time I ever wrote smut. Small PSA, It felt hella awkward and kind of... really rushed. (sorry about that, I have no clue how to write smut). Not sure if everything made sense either, but I tried my best 
> 
> Hated it, liked it or some general tips? Everything is welcome!


	9. Lawless (ThadBart)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thaddeus and Bart are twin brothers, who work at the Watchtower. They’re the best at what they do, which also brings a lot of bad guys knocking at their door at three a.m. That’s why they chose to live at the Watchtower for the time being. They don’t mind of course, because the best thing of being in space is that it’s a lawless zone. And they take highly advantage of that little fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These past two weeks I had my exams… And I’m tired and sad and I just feel awful. I didn’t hand in two of my reports, screwed up three other reports and failed two tests. I only managed to do one thing right and that was Literature… and I’m just… so tired. Pretty sure this wouldn’t have happened if I kept up every week… 
> 
> Anyway, to keep my mind off feeling pathetic as fuck, have a small fic.

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal, Thad…”

“What made you think that, the rocket fuel or the highly radioactive material?” Thaddeus hummed, glancing over his clipboard to check the final needed items for his new project. 

Bart’s eyes almost bulged out of his head. He tripped, almost knocking a tower of books on the ground. “I was talking about making coffee out of Red Bull! You have radioactive material on the Watchtower!” he all but shrieked.

Thaddeus rolled his eyes and threw the clipboard over his shoulder, on the table. He walked towards one of the piling stack of books—which at this point were starting to become a threat for fire hazards—and plucked one directly from the middle. Bart wanted to run over and stop the tower from falling, it was dangerously moving towards every side, until it finally stood still again. He sighed in relief and glared at his brother, who was walking towards one of the few empty and clean desks. 

“Could you please stop playing with these books as if they were a game of Jenga?” Bart grumbled. “We really need to clean this place up, Thad. I could use your help.”

Thaddeus threw his book on the desk in deep exasperation, sighing almost dramatically. “Do I need to do everything here?” 

“Pff, as if you do anything around here. I know I’m messy, but I’ll never be as bad as you,” he scoffed. “Could you at least do the dishes every once in a while?”

He pouted, “but I hate doing the dishes… I’ll vacuum and dust instead?” he tried to negotiate to which Bart rolled his eyes and gave a curt _‘fine.’ _“So… does that mean I can go back to researchi— _whoa_ , that’s a no then,” he sputtered as Bart started to throw books at him. He quickly hid under his desk, afraid his brother might actually kill him with the next book. He was about to crawl to one tower of books when he found a white lab coat on the ground. He grabbed the material and quickly raised it in the air. Internally begging for a cease fire. __

He waited a few seconds before he crawled from under the desk and stood up, brushing his pants—and yuck, these floors were really disgusting. That lab coat was barely even white…

“Okay, you’re right. This place is disgusting,” he said, feeling nauseated. “You start with the books, I’ll get the food containers and dishes?”

“Deal,” Bart smiled. “Don’t think we’re not going to talk about that radioactive material, though.”

“Half of the heroes here have got to be radioactive, you can’t put the blame on me,” he countered, grabbing a plastic bag and filling it with all the plastic food containers.

“Where the hell did you even get it from?” Bart groaned, trying to reach the top book of one of the smaller towers. “Why do we even have so many books? We don’t need so many—“

Thaddeus shrilled, gasping in utter disbelieve, “You take that back!”

“Oh—uh, sorry?” Bart mumbled, startled by his brother’s reaction. “I’ll just… clean this up,” he continued, moving to the farthest corner of that room and starting with the pile of books there. Horrifyingly watching his brother whispering to the books that ‘the scary dim-wit’ won’t take them away. Since when did their life turn into a Lord of The Rings movie? 

Well, Bart knew one thing for sure.

_He was not Smeagol._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hated it, loved it or some general tips? Everything's welcome!


	10. What Brothers Are For (ThadBart)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thaddeus and Bart are twin brothers in a post-apocalyptic world filled with zombies. They’re low on supplies and head to a town, that’s when things take a turn for the worst.

“I’d kill for a cup of coffee… or noodles, or _chocolate_ ,” Thaddeus groaned as they kept hiking through the forest. “Can you remember the last time we didn’t eat squirrels?” he asked as he used his sleeve to wipe away the sweat on his forehead. 

Bart moved the branches in front of him away and almost got one in his face. “Whoa… Weren’t we with a group? We ate rabbits and deer, didn’t we?” he pondered, but he was sure he was right. It wasn’t all that bad in that group, but they were heading a different way. They were going North and the brothers _came from there_ , so there was no point in going back. 

Thaddeus and Bart decided they were heading South, where they knew the walking dead bodies would decompose faster and therefore be less of a hassle. At least, that’s what they hoped was going to happen. Theoretically that should be the case, but it also gave a lot of cons. Water was going to be even more essential now, since it was only going to get warmer. Growing crops might become easier, because there’s a lot of sunshine, but with no rainwater or water in general, that’s not going to work either.

Up North the dead bodies might have more difficulty moving because of the colder climate-- _which could be great_ \--but that also means that the dead bodies will be preserved longer. Growing crops is almost impossible because of the cold, harsh weather and finding food is not going to be easy either. Though the warm clothing and the extra layers are a perfect shield from walker bites.

In the end it’s one’s own personal preference. 

“We ate squirrel even then,” Thaddeus mumbled, completely deflated. “We’re almost near a small town, aren’t we? We could check it out?” he suggested, stopping in his tracks to look at Bart.

Bart stopped as well, crossing his arms and started thinking about the idea. After a few seconds he nodded, scratched his head and sighed. “We’re low on supplies, we might as well raid what’s left.” He looked around him, checking if their noise attracted any unwanted visits. “Is there anything we particularly need?”

“I’d say antibiotics, knives, _boots_ ,” he emphasized, looking at Bart’s torn up shoes. “And whatever else we can find.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t mention chocolate,” he laughed, “Sure. We’ll look for those.”

*

They arrived near the town, but were still hidden in the woods. Thaddeus was looking out for any walkers near, to see if the town was overrun. It seemed okay, there were a few walkers, but far apart from each other. The windows were tinted brown, with dirt, so he couldn’t see the display inside. He looked over at Bart, silently asked what he thought. 

His brother looked towards the small town, whispering, “Looks like there’s a shop every block or so. Three in front of us, should be doable.”

He whispered back, seemingly frustrated, “We won’t know if it’s doable until we’ve seen the inside of the damn store.” He frowned and looked at the three— _four_ walkers. “We need to get rid of them first.”

“True that. If they make noise and the stores are infested, we’re gonna say hello to a herd,” Bart grimaced. “I’ll take the two on the left, you do the right.”

They both nodded and parted. Bart stayed low, but moved in a faster pace towards a walker. It was facing an alley, trying to make a grab at whatever rodent was hiding there, but unable to do so because of the fence in between. Without the walker even noticing, Bart swung his knife into the walker’s temple, it stilled its movements, started to sway and collapsed on the ground. Bart pulled his knife out of its temple, already feeling exhausted, and started to look for the next one.

It had stood near the entrance of what looked like a bar, but was gone now. “The hell…” he frowned, looking at the direction where it once stood. He was about to walk over there when two hands grabbed at his shirt and pulled him in, against the fence. He yelped, tried to get free from the grip, from the terrifying moaning that was way too close to his ear. He struggled, but couldn’t seem to break the walker’s grip, he could hear its teeth clanking, trying to bite at whatever it could get. He couldn’t turn around, _couldn’t see it_. He raised his arm, tried to stab it and find its head. 

_Miss, Miss.. Shit! Miss!_

Bart looked in front of him, the walker that had stood near the bar was now stumbling its way over to him, he cursed, tried to stab the walker behind him again. He held one of its arms, tried to keep it far away from him, so he couldn’t get scratched. The walker in front him neared, Bart raised his leg up, pushed at its stomach, but it kept coming. The walker in front of him grabbed at his leg, tried to take a chunk of it, Bart pulled his leg back and kicked its head. The walker stumbled a bit, but came right at him again. He called for his brother. _Once, twice._ Bart groaned, starting to get panicked now. 

The walker in front of him tried to take a chunk of his leg again, Bart couldn’t let go of the walker’s arm around him or he’d get scratched. He couldn’t let the walker in front of him get close enough without the walker behind him taking a chunk from his neck… He grunted, tried again to struggle out of the walker’s grip, to get rid of his shirt, _anything._

That’s when he heard footsteps running his way. Thaddeus tackled the walker in front of him, stabbed it right through his eye, stumbled back on his feet, grabbed the screwdriver in his belt and killed the walker behind Bart. They both panted, panicked, when Thaddeus grabbed Bart at his shirt, held him, looked him over.

“Y-You okay:? You.. you didn’t get bit?” he asked breathlessly, turning him around, inspecting his neck and shoulder, looking at his leg. 

Bart shook his head, tried to speak, but couldn’t find it in himself to even swallow properly. He felt bile coming up from his stomach.

“Scratched?” he asked again.

Bart shook his head, kneeled on the ground, wanted to rub his eyes, but Thaddeus stopped him by holding his wrists.

“Don’t,” he frowned. He grabbed a clean cloth from his shoulder bag and softly pressed it around his face. “…You okay?”

Bart didn’t answer, he just closed his eyes and nodded. 

*

They raided two shops and three houses. Thaddeus found a pair of boots for Bart and he was currently sitting on a porch, putting them on. He hadn’t said anything since that afternoon, didn’t feel like it at all. He was mostly upset at himself, for not being able to get rid of the two walkers himself. For getting caught so easily and then unable to get free.

He could’ve gotten himself killed, or worse, _bit._ And what would Thaddeus do after that? If he wasn’t there he’d be dead by now. Another one of those walking corpses… Or maybe Thaddy would put a knife in his temple, stop him from becoming one of _those._

 _“Hey,”_ a voice cut through. Bart looked up, stared at his brother. “…good?” he asked, seemingly uncomfortable. Bart frowned, not getting what he exactly meant. Thaddeus cleared his throat, tried again, “the boots, I mean.”

“…Yeah. Fine.” He finished tying up his shoelaces and stood up, trying them out a bit. “Thanks.”

“No problem. I found them at that shop with all those clothes? Tried to find a leather jacket, but didn’t seem to have an—“

“I meant for saving me there,” he cut in. “…Thanks for that. The shoes too.”

Thaddeus dramatically scoffed, but obviously smiled after that. He put his arm over Bart’s shoulder and pulled him close. “You don’t need to thank me for that. You’d do the same for me.”

Bart hummed, but returned a small smile. “So… what’s for dinner?”

Thaddeus groaned, “ _squirrels,_ ” he exasperatedly sighed. 

Bart snorted and shook his head, laughing for real this time. “If you’re a good boy, maybe you’ll get a treat after dinner,” Bart coaxed. He took out three chocolate candy bars from his shoulder bag and showed them to Thaddeus. He gasped, tried to grab them, but Bart threw them back in his bag and closed the zipper. “ _After_ dinner, mister!” he laughed.

“You’re cruel,” he pouted.

“That’s what brothers are for!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried something new, I hope you liked it!
> 
> If you hated it, loved it or have some general tips, please leave a comment if you want to! ^^


	11. Used To It (Bluepulse)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bart ends up in the hospital again for the third time that month. The first time was purely by accident; he fell down the stairs and felt sick afterwards. His school sent him to the hospital just in case.
> 
>  
> 
> _The other two times though…_
> 
>  
> 
> Let’s just say he couldn’t tear his eyes away from a certain person there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> I've been away for quite a while! I'm still in the midst of my internship abroad and am currently working over 40 hours a week. I just don't have the time or energy to work on fics, sadly. It breaks my heart, but it's only three more weeks till I get back home.
> 
> Before I update any of my other fics, I'd like to get back into writing again. So I'll be updating here for a while. Once I feel confident enough again, I'll update my other fics!
> 
> Thank you all for your patience, your kudos and all your sweet words. They mean the world to me! i love you all so very much!

“This is the third time you’ve been here _within_ the same month!” Jaime chided, looking at his patient’s bloody forehead and examining the cut. 

Bart moved his head away, facing a new direction so he didn’t have to look at the nurse’s disapproving eyes. It was indeed his third time here. The first one was purely by accident; he fell down the stairs and felt sick afterwards. His school sent him to the hospital just in case.

_The other two times though…_

Let’s just say he couldn’t tear his eyes away from a certain person here.

“Accidents happen?” Bart tried, cringing away from Jaime’s touch.

He rolled his eyes, prodded Bart’s wound a bit harder than he should and gave a satisfied _‘humph_ ’ when Bart flinched away. “Yeah sure, what was your excuse again?”

“Ran into a wall?” 

Jaime sighed, taking a step back and shaking his head. “Ese, if you’re getting bullied you _need_ to tell someone. Your injuries are only getting worse, you need to take action.”

“Bulli—what?” he stammered, panicking over Jaime’s conclusion. “It’s not like that, I swear!”

Jaime shook his head again, he wasn’t having any of that. _Excuses._ “Bart, you _are_ a minor. You know I need to call your parents right?” Jaime started, rubbing his sore neck. “You can’t fool me again by calling one of your friends.”

Bart flinched again, finding that discovery more painful than the cut on his forehead. “So you found out about that, huh?” he said, giving him a painful smile. 

Jaime just simply closed his eyes and breathed out again. He was on a way too long shift and this was draining him even faster. But he was too concerned for the boy to just brush it off. “I need to call your parents and tell ‘em you’re in the hospital. Your _real_ parents this time.”

Bart stayed quiet for a while, pointing his gaze towards his shoes. Jaime was cleaning up his wound in the meantime, looking if it needed stitches. It took a while before Bart spoke again, but when he did Jaime felt his heart breaking for the kid.

“My parents are dead…” It came out as a soft whisper, could’ve been passed along as a simple breeze of the curtains if Jaime didn’t know he was talking to him. “I… just kinda get tossed around in the family. Wally was supposed to take care of me, but he couldn’t do it. Then Max died and grandma… she’s got too much on her hands,” he confessed. “I’m more or less raising myself,” he painfully joked, his throat closing up.

Jaime let go of Bart’s forehead and shook his head. “I’m so sorry, ese.”

Bart just shrugged, “Used to it by now.”

He was used to being alone, to people forgetting about him. To feel excluded or just like an outcast. What he wasn’t used to though, was this one nurse carefully taking care of his wounds. Talking to him, joking around with him, smiling with him. Making him feel at home, _making him feel._

He’d like to get used to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked it, hated or have some general tips, don't hesitate to leave a comment! Anything's welcome! :)


	12. Deity's Duty (JayTim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many deities have fallen in the Celestial War. Bruce being one of them. With the God of Darkness gone, Tim saw no other option but to bring him back, as he controlled time. When Jason heard of this betrayal he took matters into his own hands, being the God of Retribution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> I hope everyone's doing well! I'm back home after three long months in England. I feel truly so glad to be home, I missed my own bed dearly. 
> 
> As always I hope you'll like it!

With heavy steps he entered the deity’s temple, slaying all of the guards who dared to get in his way. His fists clenched around his blood drenched sword, screaming as he got closer to the main hall. Jason kicked the door open, hurled the sword toward the deity standing near his throne and let out a bloodcurdling growl. 

Tim looked up in surprise and tried to dodge to the best of his ability, but the sword still managed to graze Tim’s neck, making him stumble back and fall against his throne. His servants ran up to him, trying to stop the bleeding with their hands, their clothing, but Tim stopped them. He gave them a firm headshake and sent them back to their post, now frowning at the intruder he stood up, hand against his neck.

“You need more than that to kill me, Jason,” he commented. His hand moved away and the wound started to heal already, though the blood remained stained in his clothes and on his hands. 

The deity growled at the sound of his name, he stomped towards Tim and lunged at his face, but to his chagrin he kept dodging and evading his attacks. “You saved him,” he growled, “I killed him and you saved him!” He roared, grabbing his dagger and trying to hit Tim with it.

“We cannot afford to lose him, Jason,” Tim frowned as he dodged the non-stopping flood of attacks. “I had to bring him back.”

That made Jason stop, clenching his fists once more and gritting his teeth he yells, “He deserved to die!”

“He did,” Tim agreed, slowly letting his guard down. “Bruce did deserve to die, for what he did to you… or rather for what he didn’t do.”

“—then _why!?_ ” Jason yelled again, taking a step closer and pointing his dagger at the deity.

Tim sighed, not wanting to admit it, “Because we can’t win the war without him. We’re not strong enough, Jason. We already lost so many of us, and I can’t bring them back,” he admitted. He closed his eyes, trying to forget the tight feeling in his throat and the sinking feeling in his stomach. “I can’t bring them back, Jason,” he whispers, unable to look Jason in the eye. “I had no other choice.”

“We could’ve trie—“

“And lose you too?” Tim yells back, feeling his blood boiling now. “I’ve lost… _We’ve_ lost so many people we loved… I can’t lose you too. Jason, you _have_ to understand that,” he says, sorrow dripping from all his words. He could feel his eyes tearing up, he brings his head up, levelled his eyes with Jason’s. “Please,” he pleaded, tears running down his cheeks.

Jason dropped the dagger on the floor and walked over to him. He lurched for Tim’s collar and grabbed hold of it, the thought of giving him one final punch square in the face did cross his mind, but instead of doing that he pulled him in and held him close. His arms creating a barrier around him and keeping him safe.

Tim wrapped his arms around Jason’s neck. There, in the middle of his temple’s main hall, surrounded by the lingering bodies of his guards, by enemy weapons and his own spilled blood on the ground, he held onto the man. Letting his tears fall as he thinks of what the future might entail for both of them. 

He just hoped it wasn’t all for naught.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still need to get back into writing, but it's going along. 
> 
> Liked it, hated it or some general tips? Feel free to leave a comment! They're all very appreciated! :D


	13. Broken Ties Don't Mend (JayTim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim’s alone with his train of thoughts. Jason joins him.

He was looking over the scenery. The sun was just about to come up, the sky was painted yellow, even with all the fog in Gotham, it was… enchanting. And quite refreshing if he could add, he didn’t have this kind of view often. Gotham didn’t. It was good to see that even somewhere in Gotham the sun could still be seen and warmth still came through those impenetrable clouds. 

This past year was the toughest year Tim has had. He’s lost so much… so much, he almost lost himself. He still felt that he didn’t belong here anymore. Dick most certainly didn’t need him anymore. Damian’s never needed him, so he’d be fine. And Jason… he only thought of him as a replacement. 

Kon and Bart weren’t here anymore. The Teen Titans got disbanded. Young Justice… he couldn’t bear to go to HQ and see their holograms. Any holograms in fact. 

He’d been fighting so hard, yet everything seemed so useless. Why was he still doing this? No one had his back, no one believed him when he said Bruce was alive. He proved everyone wrong, he got Bruce back, but not even Bruce could help Tim. No one could anymore.

He was sitting on the edge of a rooftop, his feet dangling down. A sunbeam painted half of his face yellow. It was a weird feeling for him. He’d been coped up in his apartment for so long… not wanting to get out or do something, or even take a shower. He spent most of his days in bed, but was never able to sleep. His cabinets were filled with food, but he just couldn’t be bothered to get any.

He didn’t do anything, yet he felt drained. He didn’t even know how long he’d stayed in there, but did it even matter? No one came looking.

He’d tried… to end things before. 

Passively and actively. 

Sometimes… on the worst days, he did feel like grabbing that gun again. Or just jump from a building. But he doesn’t. He never does. Because one day someone is going to need him… One day he’d have to fight again. And once they’re saved, that’s when Tim could decide. 

If it’s all still worth it or not.

Tim was looking down, saw how the streets for once were painted with bright colours instead of red and grey. For once, maybe just this second, it all felt peaceful. 

“This seat taken?”

Tim didn’t bother looking, he remained quiet. Kept looking down, to the people who were already up. Ready to go to work, saying goodbye to their family and happily driving away with their car… When was the last time he smiled at his dad? Did he ever?

He wouldn’t be able to do that ever again.

“It is quite strange to see Gotham like this… Starting to think they’re quite serious about that Global Warming-thing,” Jason chuckled, shaking his head. Tim could hear he wasn’t wearing the red helmet today, his voice sounded normal for once.

His voice… When was the last time he heard that?

“Or maybe the world’s ending,” he continued. He crouched down and got one leg over the edge of the rooftop, the other one he held at his chest, putting his chin on it. “…Y’know, I haven’t seen your mug in a long-ass time. Wat’chu been up to, kid?”

What he’d been up to… Before or after Bruce came back? Before or after Jason tried to kill him? Before or after he had to work with Ra’s al Ghul? Or maybe… after he lost everything.

“…We haven’t heard anything for over seven months. Dickiebird was starting to get a bit anxious,” Jason laughed dryly, trying to fill the silence. 

It’s been seven months?

“Yeah… Where’ve’ya been?”

“…I said that out loud?” Tim re-directs, his voice croaking from the disuse. 

“You did,” Jason chuckled. “What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

Tim frowned. What did he care? He tried to kill him for god’s sake. Why was he here… Maybe they needed him at the cave, maybe something was wrong. Or maybe Jason was bored and felt like pestering Tim some more. “Nothing, Jason. You can tell Dick I’m alive, now go please,” Tim answered curtly.

Jason inhaled sharply, his face going tight. “…Alive isn’t quite a ‘good’ or ‘fine’, Tim.”

For the first time in that morning, Tim looked up from the ground and turned to Jason. Frowning as he said, “This conversation is over, Jason. You can go back to whoever the hell sent you.”

Jason took a hold of Tim’s wrist, holding it tight. “Listen… I know I’m the least qualified brother to be here… and talk to you—“

“Then let me fucking go,” Tim gritted out.

“I can see what you’re going through, Tim. What you’ve been through so far—“

“What do you know?” Tim spat out, still trying to pull himself free from Jason’s grip.

Jason grinned, looked down and took a deep breath. “I’ve been there y’know… Losing everyone, stepping out of the family…”

Tim looked up, started to laugh, “Yeah… Yeah, you have,” he chuckled, “the only difference is that you wanted everyone dead and I stayed in my own apartment wallowing in self-pity.” He pulled himself free, glared at Jason. “We are nothing alike.”

Jason moved his arms up, so Tim could see him. “I know… trust me, I know. But I also know the family wronged you, I wronged you, Tim.” He stood up from where he was seated and looked Tim in the eye. “I know it’s not gonna be easy, but we want you back, Tim. All of us do.” Tim rolled his eyes, stood up and was about to walk back to the staircase when Jason grabbed a hold of his arm once again. “And I know… we know that we’re gonna have to fight for it. That you won’t accept it as it is now…”

“Ever. I don’t need to be part of that family ever again,” Tim gritted out again. He pulled himself free and opened the door to the staircase.

As Tim was walking away, Jason started calling out, “We’re still gonna fight, Tim. We won’t let you go. As long as it takes, we’ll show you we can be brothers again.”

Tim looked back, looked at Jason in the sunlight. With his Red Hood armour, but without his helmet or mask. He shook his head, as if saying goodbye to that image. To Gotham and all its sunlight. 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Jason.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hated it, liked it or some general tips? Everything's welcome!


	14. Let Them Stare (Batflash)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Bruce, people are staring.”
> 
> “Let them stare, finally something worthwhile looking at here,” he hummed, stirring the wine in his glass once more before he was taking a generous sip. With his other hand he clasped Wally close to him, holding him at his waist and only looking at him
> 
> Wally sighed, slightly irritated and slightly intimidated. He wasn’t quite sure which one he was feeling most. All he could think of was Bruce inviting him to a gala and all the people giving him the evil eye right now as they were speaking.

“Bruce, people are _staring._ ”

“Let them stare, finally something worthwhile looking at here,” he hummed, stirring the wine in his glass once more before he was taking a generous sip. With his other hand he clasped Wally close to him, holding him at his waist and only looking at him. They were both standing fairly close to the middle of this ballroom, making them the centre of attention.

Wally sighed, slightly irritated and slightly intimidated. He wasn’t quite sure which one he was feeling most. All he could think of was Bruce inviting him to a gala and all the people giving him the evil eye right now as they were speaking. When Bruce had invited him he didn’t think that he’d stay with him the entire time, it’s Bruce ‘billionaire-playboy’ Wayne! He wasn’t supposed to do this…

“Bruce…” Wally tried again, feeling more uncomfortable as the seconds passed by, the scowls focused on them only getting worse. “Aren’t you supposed to talk to other people?” he tried again, trying to somehow convince the older man to leave his side so he wouldn’t get tarred and feathered at the end of the night. 

“I should,” he admitted, making Wally release a deep breath of relief, “but I don’t want to.” He was smirking, looking at Wally’s facial expressions which were changing _fast_ one after another. He put his glass on a table nearby and then focused his full attention on the younger man before him, holding him closer with both his hands. “I have to confess something,” he started, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. 

Shivers were rolling over his back, this was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time and Wally didn’t know if he needed to be scared or not. “Bruce, what are you doing?” He spoke in hushed whispers. Only seconds later he wanted to melt into his arms as he gave one of his infamous playboy smiles, handsome enough to even make Wally weak in the knee. 

“No, no, we’ve been going out for a while, I need to be honest with you, _Wallace_ ,” he started again, sounding genuine, but in actuality making everything up on the spot.

“ _Dating?_ ” He whispered again, now a lot more panicked than first. “Bruce, we never dated! What the hell are you doing?” He looked around, seeing people whisper to each other as they were looking at him and Bruce as if they were a ride at a theme park.

“You see,” he continued, stuck in his role. “Before I invited you—before we were dating even, I was with someone else,” he explained. He gave him a short nudge and a small wink, his smirk evidently a sign he was amusing himself. 

Was he… ushering him to play along? “…Well, that doesn’t come as a surprise, now does it Bruce?” Wally chuckled, taking a step away from him to grab a glass of champagne. He figured he was going to need that very badly in a second.

Bruce bit his lip and rolled his eyes. Making it look, in a way, as if he was completely smitten with him, like they were used to this kind of bantering. _As if they were actually together and this was one of their dates._ “Give a guy some slack, I told you I’d play nice from now on,” he chuckled, holding Wally close again, both his hands on his waist.

Now it was Wally’s turn to roll his eyes, but more in way that screamed, _‘Do you believe that shit yourself?’_ “Seeing is believing…” he murmured, making it sound like he was just bantering back as he was brushing away some fluff off Bruce’s shoulder. “But you were saying?”

“The reason why… we might be getting some _stares_ ,” he emphasised as he looked into the crowd and then back to the man before him, “is because they’re expecting _her_.”

“Hmm, want me to leave then?” Wally joked, taking a sip from his champagne and absolutely hating the taste of it. 

“You? Never.” 

He put the glass back, next to Bruce’s glass. He looked back at the crowd, now knowing the couple were talking about them they started to disperse and disappear throughout the entire gala. “I can put a wig and a dress on, you think that’ll help?” he winked, laughing as he saw Bruce’s smile. “I do have some killer legs.”

“That… you most definitely do,” he agreed, nodding his head and laughing. _Genuinely_ laughing. When was the last time he was able to do that without any of his kids here to wreak havoc? When was the last time he could have a decent laugh about something so small, yet amusing?

“Oh dear, losing your touch there, Mr Wayne?” he said, feeling proud of making freaking _Batman_ laugh. Now _that_ is what you call an accomplishment in _life_. 

“Hope I never will,” he smirked, his hand ghosting towards his lower back.

“ _Oh_.” He swallowed, this had to be part of the play… right? “Well, aren’t you happy I’m here?” he joked again, but this time his heart was going a mile an hour. Where was that glass of champagne of his? He walked back to the table and downed the glass within the second before grabbing another one. Knowing fully well they wouldn’t have any effect on him, but still having the need for something to calm his nerves.

“I’m happy to have met you, Wally.”

Did he just… call him by his _name_? Wally looked up, surprised to say the least. 

“And I’m lucky to have someone like you with me here,” he finished, smiling again one of those beautiful smiles with those way too blue eyes and just… _everything_ about him… “The people aren’t staring anymore,” he then said, sounding more cold and calculating, returning back to his glass of wine.

This… this couldn’t be it right? Was this the end of their 5-minute-dating? Wally shook his head, like hell he’d give up right now. He walked over to him, with newfound courage he turned Bruce around and murmured, “Let them stare.” He leaned in, crashing his lips on Bruce’s, a touch of heat flushed his face. He wanted to blame the champagne, but really, he’d been wanting to do this for a while. Having Bruce all to himself, and just… _seeing him smile_. Seeing him happy for once.

They parted, only because— _apparently_ —oxygen is a thing humans need. Who would’ve thought? Both were panting when Bruce chuckled. He shook his head, looked at Wally and with a smile he agreed, “Let them stare.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liked it, hated it, or some general tips? Feel free to leave a comment! ^^


	15. Space (Bluepulse)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He panicked. He was stressed, exhausted and about to pass out—he couldn’t handle more. Forget about the feedback, the training, the entire internship, he’d had enough of it.  
> This day wasn’t supposed to end with his head on Bart’s lap and his legs spread in the air; it was never supposed to happen. And if it were to happen, then rather with a different context, but okay; beggars can’t be choosers. 
> 
> It’s not what you think, let’s start with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 2 a.m and I didn't edit or check any of this. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy though! <3

He panicked. He was stressed, exhausted and about to pass out— _he couldn’t handle more_. Forget about the feedback, the training, the entire internship, he’d had enough of it. This day wasn’t supposed to end with his head on Bart’s lap and his legs spread in the air; it was never supposed to happen. And if it were to happen, then rather with a different context, but okay; beggars can’t be choosers. 

It’s not what you think, let’s start with that. 

Oh, how Jaime wished it could be one of his erotic fantasies played out with Bart, but no. This was one of those moments in his stressful student days in which he was _done_. 

The day started fairly normal, just another school day. Then he found out he failed not one, not two, but _four_ exams. One week was all he was given to study his ass off and try to make up for his horrid results. It should have been easy enough, nothing Jaime hadn’t done before. He went home, opened his backpack and—

_Cue in the villains, the natural disasters and the alien invasions._

It was the day before his resits and he just broke down. Once all the stress and anxiety kicked back in, the realisation that all of his tests were tomorrow made the room spin. Tears started to roll down and he was staggering towards a wall, trying to hold onto something. Three hands were reaching forward, he wasn’t sure if he was walking left or right, wasn’t even sure where he was at the moment anymore. He didn’t even notice the door opening, he was too busy trying to find the right wall, remembering to breathe. He saw shades of blue, white near a wall with blue light, brown shades, and green somehow. Everything was still spinning, still too blurry to make any sense. 

He could feel something warm grab a hold of him, but to him it felt like an earthquake, moving him all around. More so than the already-spinning-room was doing to him. The shades he was seeing before turned into one colour. Brown. He felt warmth at his head, a vague voice saying something. He felt something squeeze his arm, and then letting go, then squeezing again, and letting go, and squeezing again—

This was… breathing, a reminder for it. 

Jaime breathed in the same moment he felt his arm being squeezed, only when his arm was released again did he breathe out. Soon the colours and shades began turning into shapes, the shapes got depth, and then texture came back in. He was looking at the ceiling, had he fallen?

No. Otherwise his head would’ve hurt like hell by now. …The ground didn’t feel particularly hard to be honest. He moved his head up, trying to see what he was lying on only to be surprised by a familiar figure. Bart must’ve caught him in his dizzy stupor, because his face wasn’t on the ground. Instead, his head was resting on Bart’s lap and his legs were put up against the wall, making sure he wouldn’t pass out. 

He still felt dizzy, felt like throwing up, but felt curious most out of all. How in the world did Bart get in here and why hadn’t he noticed? 

“Are you okay, what happened?” Bart asked, concern evidently showing on his face as his eyebrows creased and his hands were still continuously squeezing Jaime’s arm. 

His body felt heavy, his shoulder muscles cramping up again. “I’m fine, ese,” Jaime croaked, feeling his stomach grumble, but not in the good way. He heard a deep rush of breath, felt it on his forehead and _knew_ he had pissed off the speedster somehow. 

“Fine, _fine?_ ” The speedster started, “I saw you up against the baddest of all baddies in the whole universe, saw you ass-kicking alien douchebags and fighting freakin’ hurricanes, but _never_ have I ever seen you like this, Blue,” Bart frowned. He sighed and stroked through Jaime’s hair, playing with the curly strands in an effort to make _himself_ calm down. “I just—What can be so terrifying that even you freak out?”

“Uni, hermano.”

Bart’s eyebrows shot up, “Huh?” 

“It’s called university. You know, _school_ ,” Jaime further explained, feeling contempt with staying like that, with his head on Bart’s lap and him caressing his head. 

“School made you have a panic attack?” Bart quirked, sounding like a mixture of shock and surprise in Jaime’s mind. 

Jaime puffed, his brows coming down crouching over his eyes. “That’s the twenty-first century for you,” he grunted. 

Bart shook his head, his hands stopped moving. “I’m sorry, Jaime… I don’t know how I can help with that… What do you need right now?”

“To get away from this all.”

*

At the first opportunity, Bart dragged Jaime along with him. There was no way they were going to stay one minute longer in that closed off room filled with over-expensive books no one needed for more than one page. Literally a waste of money, even Bart agreed on that and he wasn’t in uni! 

What they needed was some damn air, and they were going to get it no matter what. They sat outside of a café, near the entrance of a huge mall. It had been awhile for them to be both outside at the same time, so Bart was enjoying this time immensely. As the waiter appeared, the two of them ordered their drinks and waited patiently for the other to start the conversation. 

“It’s good we finally get some fresh air!” Bart grinned. “So which city will we go first?” 

“City? You plan a trip, ese?” 

Bart beamed, “Not yet, but I’m planning to!” He looked back at the menu, choosing three lunches in his mind. “It’ll be like old times, it’s been a while since we went out together.”

With good reason. Jaime… had some problems. Not just school, but the team as well, especially Bart. He figured out that Bart had still very bad memories of the Blue Beetle and Jaime had discovered he had feelings for the younger man. Ensue awkward conversations, missions went wrong and avoiding each other like the plague. This year… just wasn’t his year.

But he did want things to get better with Bart. After all, they were best friends. He wasn’t going to give up on their friendship. 

Bart hummed, “Watcha think of California’?”

Jaime snorted, “Why would you want to start with that, that is ridiculous,” he exclaimed. His eyes grew wide when he saw a man running their way, something in his hand. A woman started yelling and screaming not a second later. He sighed, “Purse snatcher on your four.” He extended his leg and let the person trip over it. Quite enjoying seeing the man fall on his face and seeing the bag roll on the pavement. “It just doesn’t make sense, it’s not even summer!” he resumed. 

“It’s always summer in California!” the younger man countered, giving his orders to the waitress when she returned with the beverages.

Jaime rubbed his face and groaned a bit, as if he was moving the tendrils in his mind by force. “Coast City?” he suggested. He thanked the waitress for his drink and then looked back at the speedster.

“No, I don’t like the risk of aliens attacking us when we’re sleeping,” Bart grimaced, shuddering at the thought of it.

“Star City?” 

“No, too many corrupt politicians.” 

Jaime gave Bart a look and slightly shook his head. “Those are everywhere, ese.” 

“Yes, but the others won’t try to kill you,” Bart countered. “Not directly at least.” 

“Why don’t you come up with a few suggestions?” Jaime just wanted to get this over with. The sooner they agreed on a location, the faster they could get out of here. Jaime was done with feeling so damn exhausted all the damn time. School just filled him with anxiety and the missions weren’t helping either. Right now he needed to get away of it all, he didn’t care where. These last few months hr hadn’t felt a moment of peace. He felt like he was constantly being watched, making him slowly lose his mind. He needed some time for himself and Bart. Alone. With no Meta humans who could hear through walls or aliens who could see through doors. Just some damn privacy, _for once_.

“Metropolis?’ Bart suggested, taking a sip of his coke and stealing Jaime’s cookie which was given with his cappuccino.

“And die because a building fell on top of us? No thanks,” Jaime grunted. 

“Gotham?” 

_‘Jaime Reyes, you and the Impulse have attracted unwanted attention of other Meta humans. Recommended suggestion; annihilate the Meta humans.’_

The tone in Jaime’s voice suddenly became a lot harsher. “No. Just no,” he frowned. “Gotham has enough problems, we are not going to be part of that.” 

Okay, so he did care what the location was. He wanted to get away from this all, not _die_.

“What if we just wing it?” Bart then suggested, smiling at the waitress when she brought their food.

“What do you mean, ese?” Jaime frowned. He helped the lady put all the dishes on their tiny table, giving Bart a look. He was so gonna steal half of at least one of these.

Bart grabbed his knife and fork and started digging into an omelette-sort of dish. “I mean, we just run and fly wherever the hell we want. Make a competition out of it, have some fun and then see where we’ve stranded,” he explains, opening his mouth and stuffing his fork in it. 

“That’s… not a bad idea, actually,” Jaime started, chuckling near the end of his sentence as he shook his head once more. “You look real beautiful like that, hermano,” he joked sarcastically as he saw Bart stuffing his mouth even more with food.

Bart managed to swallow the heap of food and then nearly emptied his glass of coke in one go. “It’s what’s inside that makes you beautiful,” he commented, grinning boyishly. 

“Yeah… my liver’s blushing.”

Bart nearly spat all his food out, making Jaime cringe and laugh at the same time. He had truly missed this, hanging out with his friend. With Bart. He knew that Bart needed space, heck, he needed it too. But now, he needed to be with him more. And he was glad that somehow Bart felt the same way.

Otherwise he’d never laid with his head on his lap, feeling more at comfort than he’d ever felt that year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hated it, liked it or some general tips? Feel free to comment! ^^


	16. Iconic (Birdflash)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is just… unbelievable, this is a nightmare…” Kid Flash cried out, throwing the newspaper into the air and dramatically flopping back onto the couch, his arms hiding his face. “Wake me up when hell’s over,” he crowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> It sure has been a while, I took a very long break from writing. I'm afraid that right now I'm just too busy with university to have a constant writing schedule. But I'll drop some short fics here once every while.
> 
> Thank you all so much for the sweet comments and the kudos! I wouldn't be writing with such joy without you <3
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

“This is just… unbelievable, this is a nightmare…” Kid Flash cried out, throwing the newspaper into the air and dramatically flopping back onto the couch, his arms hiding his face. “Wake me up when hell’s over,” he crowed.

Robin raised an eyebrow, it was way too early for Kid Flash to publicly embarrass himself, he hadn’t even raided the contents of the refrigerator yet. Something was most definitely up. He walked over to where Kid Flash was laying. He eyed the newspaper and bended down to pick it up. On the frontpage was a picture of the team’s latest mission; retrieving plans from a Cadmus facility. Of course, the newspaper didn’t know that, they only knew that there were things inside that building that should never meet the light of day, which was the reason why the Team had to blow everything up… because… efficiency?

The picture was of the six original members of the team, all bruised up with torn clothes and weapons in hand. It looked quite heroic, they most certainly got Robin’s good side on the picture. _He was so getting his ass kicked for being photographed without noticing… Yikes._ The article seemed fine too, nothing bad was written on them. Except about all the damage, but then again, it was Young Justice they were taking about. They should’ve expected some to begin with.

Then his eyes crossed the cause of Kid Flash’s dismay.

_Oh God…_

Robin cried out, “Pfff, hahahaha!” He hunched over to hold his stomach as he couldn’t keep his laughter contained. Tears were starting to prick his eyes, quite uncomfortably with the mask on, but Robin just couldn’t seem to care as he was kneeling down on the floor, throwing the paper away and resumed his laughing, making the speedster groan in frustration.

“It’s not funny!” Kid Flash pouted, hiding away behind the pillows on the couch.

“Y-Your ass cheek is out, hahaha,” he started, taking large heaps of air in, “Oh god, this is hilarious.”

Kid Flash groaned, “Ugh, Rooobb.” He grabbed a pillow and aimed it at his head, hitting it directly on impact and making Robin kiss the ground with his face. “Jerk… And _nothing_ is _hanging_ around, thank you very much. I have a very firm butt.”

Robin had to roll his eyes, this was typically Wally. It was a splendid laugh though, hadn’t had one of those in ages. “Iconic, really,” he grinned, grabbing the newspaper which had fallen on the ground and handed it back to Wally. “It should be put in the Flash Museum.”

“My ass is quite iconic, yes,” Wally started, boyishly agreeing. “Y’know, if you got rid of that cape your ass wouldn’t be half bad either.”

He snorted, “You just wanna see my ass.” 

“Every time, babe,” Wally winked back, chuckling as he had to shake his head in self-pity. 

Robin stood up and plopped himself down on the couch where Wally sat, making the other gently go up on impact before landing with a soft ‘ _oof_ ’. “It’s not that bad, Kid. I mean, they’ll all get over it when they see Superman’s naked chest for the umpteenth time,” he said as he rubbed his friend’s shoulder, feeling particularly compassionate for his poor friend. 

“I know I wouldn’t mind seeing that fo’ sure,” Wally mumbled, his eyebrows raised at the mere thought of it. “Though I think you’d be more interested in Superbo— _Oof_!”

Robin quickly shushed him, grabbing a pillow and then smothering his best friend with him. “It’s not like that!”

“Ifonick, reawy!” Wally groaned, muffled from under the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liked it, hated it or have some general tips? They're greatly appreciated and always welcome!


End file.
